Stargazers Club
by adri-cakes
Summary: Destiel High School AU: Dean, who hangs with the popular crowd at Lawrence Hills HS, is growing tired of those he calls his friends. What will happen when he runs into Castiel Novak, a strange kid who seems wrapped in rumors and whispers? When Dean meets him at last, he can't help but find himself evermore interested in this mystery kid... Put simply, lots of fluff shall ensue.
1. Chapter 1

Four practices a week. Really? This was getting insane. Dean had enough on his mind with the giant math test tomorrow, and the last thing he needed tonight was a two-and-a-half hour baseball practice. He entertained the thought of just staying home and making up some excuse. He could always go with the randomly-sick excuse, but he was already famous for using that one for skipping first class. He could say there was a family emergency, but since the team captain was close with his family, that was unlikely to work, either. Eventually he found himself trudging toward Lawrence Hills High School at 6:00 p.m., trying to ignore the chill in the air. A shadow was casted over the entire baseball field, but light shone from the direction of the shabby locker room. His arms began to sting from the cold wind, and he wished he had brought a jacket. He quickly made his way to the locker room to change into his warmer brown-and-white winter baseball uniform.

"Hey, what took you so long, Dean?" questioned Tyler, Dean's "friend" and captain of the team. He was a good five inches shorter than Dean, but that didn't make him any less intimidating to anyone.

Dean returned his condemning gaze with a quizzical one. "Practice starts at 6, doesn't it?"

Of course, with the tournament right around the corner, he was even more stuck-up than usual. "Well, yes, but it's 6:05 right now, and I thought I made it clear enough that everyone should arrive a few minutes early," he said with one of his grins that mismatched his glare.

"Right. Yeah. Let's get to it, then."

He hurriedly changed into his uniform (getting his arm somehow stuck in the process), grabbed his bat, and jogged outside to meet the others.

"Now that we're all here, Winston, you go and turn on those lights," Tyler commanded, throwing a nod toward the lights that hung over the field.

As more people were sent to fetch different things or go someplace, several members of the team had become distracted by something in the field. They kept peeking over their shoulders and furrowing their eyebrows until at last Tyler took notice and demanded to know what was oh-so-important in the field that they couldn't pay attention.

The loud one of the team, Brandon, replied almost before he finished asking the question. "I think there's someone in the field over there. I wonder who it is. Maybe they fell asleep. Ooh, or maybe they got knocked out and are still unconscious. Or what if it's a dead b-"

"Okay, that's quite enough speculation, thank you. Dean, why don't you go check out who or what it is, and tell them to get out of here. We've had this spot reserved for weeks."

Dean felt the last comment a bit unnecessary, but agreed to go anyway. He was clearly on Tyler's bad side already, and plus, he was a bit curious.

As he strode closer to the figure across the field, it became increasingly obvious that it was a fellow student. Completely awake, apparently. He was lying in a patch of grass, fingers stroking a dandelion, blue eyes staring upwards.

A bit weird, but alright. "Hey," Dean called out, prodding his side gently with his shoe. The boy jerked up, evidently startled, and his blue eyes fixed on Dean with such intensity that Dean was startled, as well. "You're, ah, on the baseball field. We're having practice, so…"

The boy blinked slowly and ruffled his unkempt dark hair. "Right. I understand." He placed his hands on the ground and pushed himself up, then grabbed his bag and stood facing Dean. "I'll leave now, then."

Dean was unsure of how to respond and eventually decided on mumbling a "Yeah…" but by that time, the boy was already walking away. Grass was still sticking to the back of his trenchcoat. The sight nearly brought out a chuckle from Dean, but instead he turned away and walked back to his team.

"So what was that about?" one of the younger boys asked him. Dean shrugged his shoulders in response.

A tall, muscular boy named Andrew answered for him. "Castiel, probably. He's always doing weird stuff like hanging around in fields. Kinda creepy, if you ask me. Best to just ignore him. I hear he's a sociopath, and he moved here this year because he went on a rage at his old school and hurt a bunch of people. Got some weird shit down under those creepy eyes of his, I'm tellin' you."

"Alright, alright, enough gossiping, girls," Tyler interjected. "Tournament's next week, and we're not near ready. Get to your positions."

Dean, a bit confused, wandered to his place at home base and raised his bat. He bit his lip as he watched the pitcher take his place. The kid was weird, he'd admit that. But sociopathic? He pondered it for a moment while the pitcher took out a ball and threw a fastball at him.

_I__doubt__it__,_ Dean thought as he met the ball with a satisfying _clink__._

But for some reason he couldn't get those blue eyes out of his mind for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

As long as he lived, Dean would never be able to forget the feeling of hitting the winning home-run at the baseball tournament. It was a feeling of ultimate joy and pride that he thought could never be beaten by anything else in the world. The rest of the team had immediately run to him and lifted him onto their shoulders as he lifted his arms and yelled in victory. He had picked out his father's face in the audience, which was nearly bursting with pride. He had never seen that face on his father before, and it threatened to bring joyful tears to his eyes.

Dean replayed the memory uncountable times over the next few days, always with a gigantic grin plastered on his face (which, in effect, confused and even frightened some of his friends, who were unaware of the events replaying in his head.) This morning his father had offered to take him out hunting in the woods behind their house and gave Dean his own gun. Of course, he accepted, unspeakably happy that for the first time his father had trusted him with a gun of his own. The concept of killing things didn't especially excite him, but hunting was about the only time when his father actually acted like, well, a father. It seemed like after his victory, his relationship with his father would be different from there on.

So after gulping down some coffee and bacon, and putting on his worn leather jacket and necklace that his little brother had given him years ago, he and his father strode out into the dense woods a few hundred feet behind their house. Dean caressed his new gun the whole way, enjoying the smooth feel of the steel and wood, engraved with a "D. Winchester" on the handle. The woods smelled distinctly of the pines above him and filled with sounds of birds and leaves rustling. Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and exhaled.

"Well, son, I think I can let you go off on your own for a bit," his father told him. "You know these woods just about as well as I do by now, and your shooting ain't bad. I'm sure you'll be able to hunt down something. Find me in a half-hour or so."

Dean nodded and replied with an energetic "Yes, sir." He loved these woods, and already knew the exact spot where he was going to head toward.

After about ten minutes, he had finally made his way through the undergrowth and light layer of snow to the clearing he had loved since he was a little kid. Ever since he had discovered this place when he was about seven, he had gone here at least two or three times a week, or at least whenever he could. Here the sky was clear above him, the trees easily climbable, and the grass beneath softer than carpet. He spotted a large thrush in a tall tree above him, completely oblivious to Dean's presence. _Why not_, he figured, _Dad'll expect me to have something anyway._ He pulled out his shiny new gun and cocked it, enjoying the sound it made. He aimed it upward, bit his lip for concentration, focused on the bird, and began to pull the trigger…

"_No!"_ A sudden yell broke his concentration, and the bullet struck straight through the trunk of the tree, a good ten inches away from his target. The bird let out a fearful squawk, and flew away so fast he couldn't even follow it.

"_Damn it_," he grumbled, and whirled around to see who had made him miss his first target with his new gun, ready to give whoever it was a good few choice words. But speech was lost on him as he turned around and found himself face-to-face with a pair of blazing blue eyes. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and pulled his head back. It was the same kid who was randomly at the baseball field last week. Dean stumbled over his words. "Er… what are you doing?"

"No, what are _you _doing?" replied Castiel, wide, angry eyes pouring into Dean's. "What did that bird ever do to you, huh? It was just sitting on a tree, chirping happily, enjoying the breeze, and you just waltz in here like you own the place and decide to kill it? Who do you think you are?" Dean caught himself thinking of whether maybe the rumors about him being a sociopath were true. Then his gaze broke away from Dean's (to his relief) and his voice lowered. "Besides, now I won't be able to finish my sketch of it."

Dean once again found himself speechless. He'd never heard anybody say anything like that before. I mean, it's just a damn bird… Though somehow, he felt that this Castiel had a point. "Um…" Castiel wrenched his gaze back to Dean. "You're Castiel, right?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He looked a bit like a kitten, Dean thought to himself. He nodded slowly, as if deep in thought, and replied, "Yes, that is my name."

"Oh, well… I'm Dean. Dean Winchester. I… think we've met before?"

"Yes, I believe so," Cas replied, looking up at Dean with something that looked like curiosity. He was still wearing the same trenchcoat. "I was stargazing on the field last Thursday evening and you came and told me that I had to leave."

There was something almost accusing in his tone, but Dean ignored it. Taking a step back (did this kid know anything about personal space?), he sheepishly mumbled a "sorry" (what was he even apologizing for?) and stepped over to the sketchbook lying in the grass. "This yours?" he asked. The sketch on the page was surprisingly skilled, the only part not complete being the vague outline of a thrush. He wouldn't be able to finish it now, Dean thought with a slight twinge of guilt. Castiel responded with a slight nod.

"The trees and birds out here are good subjects, I've noticed. Especially in this part of the woods."

Dean seemed to come to his senses, and wiped his right hand over his slightly rough jaw. "Oh. Do you live near here or something?"

"Yes. Just over there," Castiel stated, pointing toward the opposite direction from which Dean came from. His house must be on the other side of the woods, Dean figured. "I discovered this place a few weeks ago, and I've been using it for my sketches."

"Really? I've been coming here for years. Mind if I flip through?" Dean asked, for some reason suddenly wanting to see his drawings. Castiel shook his head in response, and Dean began to flip through the pages. They all held beautiful drawings of trees and bushes and birds and squirrels and everything else the woods held. Most of them were only half-complete, but he didn't mind. It was somehow satisfying to see his favorite place put on paper in front of him, and to feel like somebody else was able to understand the beauty of this place. "Wow, Cas, these are amazing. Seriously. I've never seen anything like these."

Cas looked somewhat taken aback, but his face relaxed within a few seconds, and Dean could've sworn he was blushing. For the first time, it seemed like Castiel was the speechless one. "Er… yeah… thank- thanks," he smiled up at Dean with a somewhat lost look that made Dean's eyes widen a bit. "Dean," he added as an afterthought. They stood facing each other for a moment, but the silence wasn't especially uncomfortable. Especially not with Cas smiling shyly up at him. It was a nice smile, Dean caught himself thinking, and he couldn't help but smile back. Cas suddenly seemed to snap out of a daze after a few seconds, and after looking down for a moment as if in internal debate, he suddenly blurted out, "Do you want one?"

"One…. what?"

"One of my sketches," Castiel said hurriedly. "I mean, I have at least twenty, and since this seems to be kindof your place, I- I wouldn't mind if you wanted one of them." He seemed to take Dean's puzzled glance as one of rejection. "Oh but of course, you don't have to, I wouldn't want to trouble you with my…." he trailed off, and fixed on Dean expectantly.

Dean couldn't stop himself from chuckling. This guy _was _weird. Definitely not a sociopath, though. The weirdness was a bit endearing, actually. "You kidding?" he finally said. "I'd love one. These are great. Does it matter which one I take?"

"No, no, anything's fine."

Dean sat down on the snowy grass and finished flipping through the sketchbook before making his decision. He could feel Castiel looming over his shoulders, watching Dean turn the pages. Dean made a drawn out "_hmmmm..._" sound, and put his index finger to his chin, though he had already decided. "I think I'll go with..." He quickly flipped the pages back to the most recent drawing, of the pine trees and half-drawn thrush. "This one," he announced with a cheeky smile, looking upwards at Castiel's upside-down face.

Castiel looked somewhat disappointed. "But that one's not even done yet..."

"Too bad," Dean replied, "It's mine now. Besides, it's my fault it's not done yet." He delicately folded the thick paper and placed it in his pack. Placing his hand over a rock next to him for support, he tried to get up, but realized he forgot about the thin layer of snow covering everything. His hands and feet slipped, and within a second he found himself falling directly into Castiel's upright legs, causing him to tumble over in the process, and they both ended up a tangle of limbs on the slippery grass.

Dean rolled off of Castiel as quickly as was humanly possible, mouth open to give a dozen apologies, when he saw that he wasn't upset at all. He was _laughing._ Castiel was shaking and giggling on the floor, and at last erupting into full-blown, light-hearted laughter. Dean was utterly baffled for a moment, but soon enough he found himself laughing along. It was nice to have the tension break, and he realized what a weird situation he was in to start with. After a good thirty seconds or so, the laughs retreated into chuckles, and Castiel wiped his eyes with the end of his trenchcoat's sleeve and stood up with ease. He held out his hand and Dean grasped it. Dean was a bit surprised at the strength Cas displayed when he pulled him up, but forgot about it quickly. Castiel was smiling and gazing at him again, in that way that made Dean feel like his entire mind and soul were exposed. He didn't really mind, but he could see where it might make others feel uncomfortable, or even creeped out.

Suddenly Dean remembered the promise he made to his father. "Er, I have to go, I told my dad I'd meet him in a half-hour, and it's been..." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Thirty-seven minutes since I left him."

Castiel's smile dropped, and a shadow seemed to flit across his face. "Ah, right."

"It... was really great talking to you, though. And thanks for the sketch."

Castiel nodded and muttered, "Of course."

Seemed like that random bout of easygoingness was gone. Ah, well. He got the feeling he'd be seeing that side of him again sometime. "Well, I'll see you around at school, all right?"

Castiel allowed himself a small smile, before replying with an awkward-sounding "all right."

This kid definitely was weird, Dean admitted to himself. But that only made him even more interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

It was another week and a half before Dean ran into Castiel again, and by that time, he had nearly forgotten about the blue-eyed mystery boy.

Dean and his little brother Sam (a freshman) had both just gotten out of music class (which, conveniently, they had together) and were heading down the hall to the cafeteria to get some lunch.

"What's that bag in your hand?" Sam asked him, nodding toward the rumpled brown sack in Dean's grip.

"Figured I'd try something different today," Dean answered with a shrug. "Food here is just disgusting. So, I decided to bring my own lunch." He reached into the crinkly bag and pulled out a banana, some leftover bacon from breakfast, and a slice of apple pie wrapped three times over in plastic.

Sam immediately burst into laughter, and Dean smiled at him. "What the hell kind of lunch is that?"

Dean shrugged and replied with a simple "It's my kind of lunch."

That brought out another chuckle from Sam, which began low and ended strangely on a high-pitched note. Ahh, puberty. Gotta love how it messes with your voice. "Well, _I'm_ going to get one of the garden salads. You know, the little ones you buy for, like, a dollar? They're not half-bad, you know. Oh, and I'm _not_ sitting with you and your friends this time. That was so awkward last time. Seriously, I didn't even know what to say and..."

His little brother's voice faded from Dean's mind as he caught a glimpse of a very familiar-looking trenchcoat in an empty classroom to their right. Dean wasn't even aware that he had stopped walking until Sam turned around, ten feet ahead of him.

"Hey Dean, what're you doing? I wanna get there soon so I can get one of the good-"

"Yeah, uh, you go on ahead, Sammy. I'm gonna check something out real quick."

Sam sent him a confused look, but didn't question him. "Alright, see you later, then..." And with that he took his leave, leaving Dean in front of the classroom door. Dean grabbed the steel handle, pulled it down, opened the door, and stepped in, trying to make as little noise as possible. After gently closing the door, he took a few more steps toward the dark-haired figure next to the window.

On closer inspection, Castiel seemed to be looking through some big black instrument. A telescope. Why was Cas looking out of a telescope at lunch time? And when it's still sunny out?

Dean managed to creep right up to where Castiel was without him even noticing. Deciding to take full advantage of this opportunity, he leaned over, putting his lips not two inches from Castiel's unsuspecting ear. "Hey, Cas," he whispered.

The effect was immediate. Cas jumped back from the telescope, hitting his nose in the process, and looked at Dean with wild eyes. Recognition flitted across his face, and he seemed to calm. He let out a sigh, holding his injured nose. "Hello, Dean," he answered unenthusiastically.

"Oh, sorry, is your nose hurt?"

Cas let go of his nose, bringing his arms back to his sides. "No, it's fine." After looking at him strangely for a moment, Castiel asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Dunno. I just saw you standing in here and wondered what you were doing." He paused. "What _are_ you doing, anyway?"

"Astronomy club," he answered levelly.

"Astronomy cl- there's no one else here!" He turned around, searching the room for any sign of other people.

"Nobody wanted to join," Castiel responded, a small pout on his face.

"So... you just come into this classroom and have astronomy club by yourself?"

"That would be correct."

Deciding not to push the issue any further, Dean instead asked, "So, what do you do in astronomy club?"

"Well, I look out this telescope and try to find different planets and stars, and I sketch them if there's anything interesting. I... I love looking at stars."

"But it's daytime. Can you even see stars at daytime? I mean, they only come out at night, right? That's kinda their whole thing, isn't it?"

Castiel sighed once again. "Yes, Dean, stars are usually only visible during nighttime, but you can still view them with a telescope. Of course, though, night is far more convenient."

"Mind if I take a look?"

Cas gestured toward the telescope, and Dean closed his left eye and looked through with his right. Just like he said, he could see a few distant lights and even what looked like a faded orange planet. "What's that big orange circle?" he asked, immediately feeling dumb after the words were out of his mouth.

"Venus, I think. It might be Mars, though. Definitely one of those two."

Dean, a bit surprised, drew back from the telescope. "You don't know which one it is? Not much of an astronomer, are you?" As an afterthought, he quickly added, "But that's fine, of course. I mean, I wasn't even sure if it was a planet or not."

"I admit that my knowledge regarding specific planets and stars is somewhat lacking. But I still enjoy looking at them. Not knowing them actually makes it more interesting to me."

"Well, astronomy is all about knowing those sorts of things, isn't it? So shouldn't it be called the Stargazers' Club or something instead?"

The ends of Castiel's lips curved upward. "Yes, I suppose that would be more accurate. Though to be to completely accurate, it would just be the Stargazer Club. Since there's only one person and all."

"Doesn't have to be," Dean found himself saying. "I see two people here."

"What are you..." Castiel's eyes opened wide in understanding, then narrowed in confusion. "You actually want to join?"

Dean shrugged. "Why not? I could use a break from the people I usually hang out with at lunch. If that's cool with you, I mean."

"Yes, that's... cool with me," said Castiel. He seemed to realize how awkward he sounded, because he then added, "I'd be delighted to have you join, Dean."

"Well, then, that's decided," Dean announced, trying to ignore the strangely happy feeling in his chest. "What should we do first, O Mighty Stargazers' Club President?"

"Um... we could take turns looking out of the telescope."

Dean stifled a snort. "Sure. You can go ahead, I need to eat my lunch anyway." He pulled out his banana, bacon, and pie, taking note of Castiel's strange looks at his lunch. Castiel shrugged and turned away, putting his eye to the telescope.

Dean watched him with interest as he sat at a desk and ate his lunch. There was something about the way Castiel ever-so-gently adjusted the knobs and looked out at the sky with pure awe and wonder, and Dean couldn't tear his gaze away. The kid was sort of... elegant, somehow, and whether it was his tousled hair, gorgeous eyes, perfectly angled jawline, or gentle hands, Dean couldn't tell.

After finishing his banana and bacon, Dean hastily unwrapped his already-messy pie, which he had been looking forward to eating for the past four hours. He reached in his bag to grab his fork... "Damn it," he grumbled, "I forgot the fork. I always forget the damn fork."

"Here, use mine." When Dean turned around to face him, Cas was not two feet away from him, gripping a steel fork in his hand.

"Oh, you... have one?"

Castiel nodded. "I already finished my lunch last period." Spying Dean's look, he added, "Applesauce and string cheese," as if that made everything perfectly clear.

"Oh. Thanks," Dean responded dumbly, taking the fork from Castiel's hand. He wolfed down his pie, aware of Castiel's eyes watching him. Didn't bother him too much though, too focused on pie. Cinnamon-y and delicious as always.

"So do you still have the drawing?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, it's in my bedroom, next to all my posters. Actually, I framed it, since we had a frame lying around that seemed to be the right size."

This answer seemed to satisfy Castiel, because his chest seemed to puff out with pride and his facial expression was one of victory. "Would you like to look out the telescope, now?"

"Sure," Dean replied, standing up. He knelt and looked through the telescope again, seeing a different view that was a bit blurry. He reached for a knob but then realized he had no idea which knob to use. "Er, Cas, it's kinda blurry, which thing do I use?"

"It's this one," Cas said, grabbing his hand and leading it to the middle of the three knobs. Dean felt a strange (but not unpleasant) tingle under his skin where Cas's hand touched his, but by the time he could react, Castiel was already a few paces away, nodding at him to go on. Dean took a breath and looked back into the telescope, adjusting the knob until it was clear. He realized he didn't know how to move his view, but instead of asking Cas again (he had a weird shyness about repeating what had just happened) he played with the other two knobs until he figured it out. The bottom was for moving it, and the top one... well, he wasn't sure if that did anything.

They seemed to lose track of time as the minutes ticked by. The next ten minutes was a mixture of exploring the stars, making comments to each other about particularly interesting stars or planets, and listening to the music coming from the classroom below them. Orchestra club, they figured. Every minute seemed to dissolve the barriers between them bit by bit, and by the time the bell rang, Dean felt like he had made a good friend.

"Oh, wait a sec," Dean called out as Cas approached the door. He pulled a piece of paper and pen out of his bag, and scribbled down his number. "Here." He handed it to Cas, who seemed somewhat taken aback. Dean wondered for a moment if he had somehow offended him. "Since we're both in the Stargazers' Club now, I figure we should have each other's cell numbers. You know, for arranging meetings and stuff."

"Right." Cas dug around in his backpack for a moment, fetched a pen, dug around some more, then admitted, "I don't have any paper."

"That's fine," Dean said, pulling up his jacket sleeve. "Just write it on my forearm. I'll remember easier that way, anyhow."

Cas nodded slowly, then grasped Dean's wrist with his right arm (what's with that weird tingle thing, again?) and wrote down the numbers 595-201-3994 in messy blue ink. He capped the pen, stuffing it back into his bag, slung the bag over his shoulders, and made for the door again. "I'll... see you around, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean responded with a smile, "See you around, Cas."

The door closed with a soft click, and distantly Dean wondered what Sam would make of the number hastily scrawled on his arm in fresh blue ink.


	4. Chapter 4

Sure enough, as soon as Dean had changed into his pajama bottoms and a T-shirt that night, Sam had jumped on the opportunity to interrogate his older brother. The questions started out simple enough, like "Oh, whose number is that?" It seemed, though, that he wasn't satisfied with Dean's boring answer, so he ended up with questions like "Ooh, it's a new girlfriend, isn't it? It's been three months since the last one, I was wondering when Mr. Popular was gonna find another girl. Maybe this one will last longer than your record three-and-a-half weeks." Sam was so loud that their father came and asked them what was going on. All Sam had to say was the words "new girlfriend," and their father had rolled his eyes, turned around, and walked away in seconds. He never was one for caring much about his sons' lives outside the house.

Of course, once he managed to get a word between Sam's incessant chattering, Dean had responded, "It's a guy, Sam. Not a new girlfriend. Stop freaking out," but that only seemed to make matters worse.

"Oooooooh, _that's_ why your relationships never lasted. I see it, now. Makes sense. Well, I wish you and the new boyfriend luck," Sam commented with a flip of his hair and a wink that made Dean vaguely uncomfortable. Soon enough, he gave up on convincing his gossipy brother otherwise and retreated back to the comfort of his room, being sure to close the door behind him with a nice satisfying _thud_.

He flopped down on his smallish but soft bed and let out a long breath he didn't know he was holding. For a minute or two he stared up blankly at the ceiling, eyes following the little cracks and dents. His gaze drifted down to his tournament trophy, then to Castiel's framed drawing, which he took a few moments to admire. It really was stunning, especially the way he managed to get the texture of the trees just right, leaves cascading over the top, half-drawn bird perched on one of its branches...

Dean turned his attention to the window next to the drawing. He followed his sudden urge to lift the blinds and open it. The cool night air rushed against his face, but he found he didn't really mind the cold. It was pretty nice, actually. He could smell the pines of the woods from here, and the stars all shone down at him. The sky was completely clear. _It'd be a good night for stargazing_, he thought to himself. He spent a few more moments breathing in the fresh air and admiring the view until a thought popped into his head.

He dug his hand into his pocket, taking out his phone, and flopped back onto the bed. He copied Castiel's number from his forearm into the phone, wondering if he should call or send a text. He ultimately decided a text might be safer. This _was _Cas, after all.

**Hey, it's Dean. I just got a good idea.**

Sent 8:03 pm

Dean stared at the screen, waiting for a reply so that he could explain. One minute passed. Two. Three. Impatience grew in him, and he threw the phone back on the bed and started to get up. But at that moment the phone vibrated, and he grabbed it faster than he meant to. Turning it over he saw that Cas wasn't texting him back. He was _calling_ him. Why the hell would Cas be calling him? Nonetheless, he swiped across the screen, answering it, and put the phone to his ear. "Cas...?"

"Dean, how do I reply to your message?"

At first Dean thought he was asking what he should say in reply, but then realized he didn't know how to send a text back. "...You've never sent a text before?"

Silence.

Dean sighed, exasperated. "Okay, well you click 'view' when the little pop-up shows up, then you go down to the little text box at the bottom and type in your reply, then press 'send.'"

"Right, thanks."

"Oh, but about my idea..." It was useless. Castiel had already hung up. Dean didn't have time to roll his eyes, though, because his phone vibrated within half a second.

**dean i th**

Sent 8:08 pm

**ink i have it now**

Sent 8:08 pm

**Yeah, that's great Cas.**

Sent 8:09 pm

Dean waited a minute for Castiel to ask him about his idea, but evidently that wasn't going to happen. He was suddenly hesitant to bring it up. _Come on, Dean, what are you, a preteen girl?_

**So I was thinking, it's kinda weird to just do the stargazers club thing during the day when the sun is out, right? And most clubs have out-of-school meetings. So I was thinking maybe we should, too. At night, when we can actually see stars.**

Sent 8:11 pm

After what seemed an eternity, his phone vibrated again.

**are you proposing we hold club meetings at night outside/**

Sent 8:14 pm

**Yeah, makes sense, doesn't it? That way we wouldn't need to take turns looking out of a telescope all the time.**

Sent 8:14 pm

Dean reached to put his phone on the desk, expecting another long wait, but it vibrated before he could put it down.

**when/**

Sent 8:14 pm

He couldn't help but smile at the lack of proper capitalization and punctuation. Probably couldn't figure out where the shift key was.

**Whenever works for you. Baseball season is over, so that won't be a problem anymore. Thursdays, maybe?**

Sent 8:15 pm

**mondays and thursdays/**

Sent 8:16 pm

Dean wasn't sure if this was a question or a statement. He wasn't really expecting two nights a week. Alright, then...

**Sure. 7 to 8 pm sound good? **

Sent 8:16 pm

**that should be fine.**

Sent 8:17 pm

Oh, look, punctuation. Well, that was progress.

**Cool. Where should we meet up?**

Sent 8:17 pm

**that clearing in the woods between our houses**

Sent 8:17 pm

The more Dean pondered the idea, the more it made sense. In addition to being his favorite place, the sky was very clear in the center, and trees would provide cover from city lights. And it would be a convenient place to meet, considering it was right between their houses.

**Alright. See you there tomorrow at 7 then?**

Sent 8:19 pm

**tomorrow at 7. understood**

Sent 8:19

Dean woke up an hour late the next day. Not that he cared much. It just meant he could skip the first part of math. During the remainder of math and history class, Dean harbored a growing sense of anxiousness about that evening. He asked himself several times what he was even doing. He barely even knew Castiel; he'd only met him three times, the first of which they had hardly exchanged three words, the second time in which Castiel yelled at him for hunting a bird, and the third time, he randomly decided to join a stargazing club with the two of them as the only members? Why did Dean seem to care so much about this guy? It was pretty weird, the more he thought about it. And now he was going to spend an hour with him alone in the woods.

Another voice in his mind assured him that it wasn't weird at all. That of course it was natural to like making friends, and this person just so happened to strike his curiosity. Maybe it was part pity; Castiel didn't seem to have any real friends, what with all the rumors flying around about him. Castiel seemed like one of the most solid, kind people he had ever met. Plus, Dean was growing tired of his usual peers, constantly wearing masks, feigning friendships, and getting way too caught up in completely unimportant things. It'd be nice to just have a friend who isn't afraid to be himself, and can appreciate the little things in life. I mean, that _had_ to be the reason, right?

He had just gotten out for lunch and made his decision to see if Cas was in the same room as yesterday when Dylan called out to him from across the hall.

"Shit," Dean murmured under his breath.

"Hey man, where ya headed? Cafeteria's this way," Dylan gestured. Dylan always wore a cocky smile on his face, and his roundish chin was always pointed up so far it almost looked unnatural. "Not ditching us like yesterday, are ya?"

"Guess not," Dean replied, attempting a smile. Admitting defeat, he followed his large friend to their table near the west corner of the cafeteria.

"Deeeaaan, come sit next to mee," whined a brunette girl with large eyes and tight clothes. Her voice was uncomfortably high, even more so whenever she spoke to Dean. Seeing no choice, he grudgingly sat next to her, but made sure to keep a good foot's distance. "Hey Deeeann," the way she drew out his name almost made him shudder with annoyance, "where were you yesterday? We all missed you so very much, I was waiting for you to come all lunch long." She looked up at him with what were supposed to be puppy-dog eyes and bit her lip, trying to look as cute as possible. "But you never came..." She casted her eyes downward and to the side. Half the guys at the table were staring at her. Dean wouldn't have been surprised if they all suddenly grew tails and started wagging them at her.

"Right, sorry about that, Ra... Re..." He could never remember her name. Racquel? Rebecca? Not that he ever really took the effort to remember it, anyway. "But, I was eating lunch with my new, um, friend."

Her eyes darted straight back up to him, fear and rage in her eyes for just a moment. Somehow she managed to convert right back and suggest in a sweet-as-honey voice, "Ohh, really? You should bring her over here some time. I'd just love to meet her." Dean could detect the pure malice and evil intent behind her words.

"Oh, no, it's just a guy." To make sure nobody reached the same conclusion as Sam did, he added, "Just a normal guy friend."

She seemed to relax a bit at this, and the others at the table who were watching grew curious faces. "Well, who was it?" one boy asked.

Dean considered lying, but immediately pushed that thought out of his mind. He wouldn't play the hiding-and-secrets games everyone seemed to love so much. "Castiel Novak."

Dylan broke the three-second silence that followed with one of his big guffaws. "That kid? The creepy sociopath kid? Ah, that's a good one, Dean. Seriously though, who's your new friend? Some guy from your baseball team?"

"No, it's Castiel Novak. And he's not a sociopath, he's actually pretty nice. A bit off, I'll admit, but there's nothing _that_ weird about him."

Everyone at the table seemed to fall into complete silence, and they all exchanged looks of _What's with this guy_? Dean opened his mouth to give further explanation, but Dylan cut him off. "So, Rebecca, how insane was that party last Saturday, right?"

The table seemed to sigh in relief, and Rebecca was more than happy to change the subject to herself. "Ah, that was so much fun! Can't even remember half of it, I was so drunk. Matt's parents should leave town again, that needs to happen again."

And thus the conversation continued, with nobody speaking a word to Dean for the rest of lunch. He got a few glances of confusion and even pity, but that was about it. He wished he could leave the table and find Castiel and eat lunch with him, but he figured that wouldn't help much with the situation. So he waited patiently, and when the bell finally rang, he zoomed out the door and headed to English class.

6:45 p.m. had Dean anxious once again. He had already put on jeans, a black shirt, his leather jacket, and his necklace (why did he care so much what he was wearing? It was just a club meeting...) and no longer had an excuse to delay. Why did he seem to care so much about this kid anyhow? Chastising himself for being so ridiculous about this, he forced himself to leave his room, through the hallway, and out the front door. On his way out, his father looked over from the kitchen table above his newspaper and casually asked, "Where are you headed?"

"Oh, I was just..." Dean decided against saying anything about the Stargazers' Club. He didn't want to hear what his father might have to say to that. He was already upset that Dean chose baseball over a manlier sport like football or hunting, and stargazing definitely wasn't on the list of macho stuff. "...heading out to see a friend." That technically wasn't a lie, Dean thought to himself proudly.

His father didn't even seem to hear his response; he just nodded slowly and remarked, "Don't stay out too late," already back absorbed in his newspaper.

Dean stepped through the front door, bracing himself against the cold. It was mid-February, which meant that while most of the big snows were over, it would still be chilly for a month or two to come. Luckily, the sky was just as clear as the night before, and the stars shined even brighter, if anything. The moon would be full in a few days. A perfect night sky.

His feet hardly needed any direction through the woods. They easily traversed the path he had known for years, already knowing where the brambles and inclines and dips in the ground were. He took a right at the "Big Red Tree" (the huge, unmistakable tree near the edge of the clearing that looked like a miniature redwood; Dean had called it that since he was eight, and he just stuck with it) and entered the meeting place. Castiel was already there, lying on the ground and looking up, wearing- you guessed it- a button-up white shirt with a blue tie and his signature trenchcoat, spread out over the grass beneath him.

"Hello, Dean," he greeted without so much as looking at him.

"Hey there, Cas," Dean replied, taking his place on the ground about an arm's length from him, next to a large pine tree. "Great sky tonight, huh?"

"Yes. I suppose it is."

A few moments of silence followed, but it wasn't especially awkward. Besides, it was never fully quiet in the woods; there was always a cricket chirping, or a bird singing, or leaves rustling in the brusque wind, and today there was even an owl hooting not too far off. At last, Castiel spoke.

"You weren't in the club room today."

Dean took a moment to formulate his reply. Was Castiel just stating an observation, or was he actually upset about it? Either way, he wanted to choose his words carefully. "I meant to go, I really did. But this friend of mine, Dylan, stopped me in the hall and wanted me to go eat lunch with him and everyone else. Trust me though, I would have much rather been with you."

Castiel was silent for a moment. "...You would have? Why?"

"Well, to be honest, Dylan's a bit of a dick." Cas let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a cough. Dean couldn't help but feel a bit of amusement at his reaction. "They all asked me why I was gone yesterday, and I mentioned you. They looked at me like I was some sort of alien."

Dean could practically feel Cas tense up beside him. "It was kinda funny actually," Dean continued. "I guess they're too attached to those rumors going around about you. Figure I've made friends with some sociopathic lunatic who got expelled for beating up a bunch of people at his old school. Crazy, isn't it?" Dean finished with a chuckle.

But Castiel wasn't laughing.

". . . Cas?"

"No, it's fine. Don't worry about it. Really."

"Don't worry about what?"

"I understand if you don't want to eat lunch with me," Cas said in a hollow voice. "Or if you've decided to not join the club, after all." He began to stand up, as if about to leave. "Don't worry about it, I'm used to being-"

Dean grabbed Castiel's arm. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Castiel blinked, bewilderment obvious in his face. "Well, I..."

"You think I believe one word of those idiotic rumors about you?" When he didn't get a reply, Dean pulled him back down, so that they were both sitting with their backs against the pine tree. "Listen, Cas, I don't fall that easily for crap like that. I judge things based on what I see for myself, not what I hear from a bunch of idiot teenagers who don't know the difference between gossip and truth. And from what I've seen, you're just about the least sociopathic person I've ever met, and you're worth more than all the people in my lunch group combined. So don't insult me by thinking I'd choose a bunch of worthless dicks over a good person like you."

"So... does this mean you aren't quitting the club?" Castiel asked hopefully.

"No, Cas, I'm not quitting the club. And if I can help it, I'm going to try to start getting away from those people. I don't even know why I still eat with them. So if I'm lucky, I'll be in the club room four days a week soon. Still gotta keep my promise to Sammy; we agreed at the beginning of the year to eat together once a week."

"Sammy?" Castiel questioned, with a bit of concern leaking into his voice.

"My little brother. He's a freshman this year. Complete goofball. Already six feet tall, but I swear he still acts like he's ten."

"I have a brother like that, as well," Castiel reflected. "Only difference is he's a year older than me, but considerably shorter. He... likes pulling pranks on me and my other siblings. His name is Gabriel."

"That must be fun to live with."

"Actually, I don't live with him on a daily basis. He makes up for it, though, whenever he does come visit, or I visit him." Castiel resumed looking up at the stars with a somewhat closed-off look. Dean thought it best not to ask about his family's circumstances. Instead he turned his eyes toward the trees, and figured he may as well talk about himself.

"Well, Sam's my only sibling. It's just me and him and my dad. But my dad's not even there half the time. He likes to go on long hunting trips a lot, so it's usually just me and Sammy. It's not so bad, though. Kinda peaceful, really, when he's gone. I'm just thankful that I don't have to go with him on his trips anymore. He took me with him a lot a couple years ago, and I hated it. Once I acted like I had a sprained ankle for an entire day just so we could go back home. He still takes me out hunting from time to time. Helps make me into a man, he says."

"Oh, is that why you were hunting in these woods that one time?"

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "I'll never forget that day. Just doing the usual, going to my place, finding a bird... it was on that tree, wasn't it?" he asked, pointing to a tree across the clearing to their left. Castiel murmured an affirmation. "And then right when I fire, this kid comes leaping at me and starts yelling at me for trying to kill it. Can't say that had ever happened to me before."

"I didn't leap or yell at you." Dean didn't even have to look over; he could hear the pout in Cas's voice.

"Yeah, but you were pretty damn close to it. I'm not saying it was bad or anything. That's not it at all, I'm actually kind of glad you did. It was just... different."

"Different, huh..." Castiel echoed softly.

Dean turned his head to face him and make some witty reply, but the words were lost on him. Castiel was sitting against the tree, hugging his knees to his chest, and looking up at the sky with that look of awe and wonder he reserved only for the stars above. His wide blue eyes reflected the thousands of small lights far up above, and his pink lips were slightly parted, breathing in the chilly air, leaving behind little puffs of smoke as he exhaled. His short dark hair stuck up against the tree in all directions, his jaw was only partially shaven, and his blue tie was tied completely the wrong way, but somehow, he looked nothing short of beautiful.

Dean's chest felt like something was pulling at his heart, making it harder to breathe normally. Time seemed to slow all around him, and when Castiel turned and directed those star-filled eyes directly at him, it seemed to stop completely. Dean's eyes were locked onto Castiel's like a lifeline, mouth parted in a silent plea. How long they stared at each other like that, neither could guess at afterwards. All they could recall was that one moment, they were lost in each other's eyes; the next moment, Castiel inclined his head upward and to the right, moving toward Dean slowly, deliberately; the next, their faces were just an inch away; and finally, at long last, Dean cupped Castiel's face in his hands and pressed their lips together, immediately lifting away any of the walls that still remained between them. Kissing Castiel was the greatest feeling in the world. It was the first bite of that savory cherry pie from the bakery across the street that he got on every birthday. It was hitting the winning home run at the baseball tournament. It was bliss.

Dean thought back to the question he'd been asking himself ever since he met Castiel: _Why do I care so much?_

_Of course,_ he thought to himself. _This is why._


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of that night was a bit of a daze, really. But a few parts were memorable enough.

They had pulled away after eight or nine seconds, gazing at each other with wonder and disbelief at what they had just done. Dean didn't have much time to think though, because before he could even question what the hell just happened, Castiel had grasped the collar of Dean's leather jacket and pulled him back in again. The second kiss was a bit less awkward, and their lips seemed to fit together even more perfectly this time. Dean never wanted it to end, but unfortunately his lungs required air, so he pulled back, resting his forehead on Cas's and letting their warm breaths mingle in the cold air between them.

After a minute, Castiel looked down at his wristwatch and stood up somewhat abruptly.

"I have to go now," he stated blankly.

By the time Dean was able to sort out actual words to say, Castiel had already disappeared through the trees. It was 7:54. Maybe he had something he needed to do at 8 and couldn't wait around.

Dean slowly got up to his feet and let his feet guide his way through the forest as his mind whirled at a hundred miles per hour.

_What the hell just happened? Did Cas and I just... kiss? _

_Oh yeah, that was definitely what I would call a kiss, _another part of his mind responded.

_I just met this kid a couple weeks ago, and I kissed him. How the hell did that happen? Plus, he's a guy._

_Oh, come on, so what? If the connection's there, it doesn't matter how long you've known the kid, right? And girl, guy, who really cares? Long as you have feelings for each other, what does it matter?_

_Feelings for each other... wait, he has feelings for me?_

_Duh, you idiot. I think that was made clear enough tonight._

_Well, what's going to happen now?_

That was a question that no part of his mind seemed able to answer.

The next thing Dean remembered was lying in bed, touching his lips and remembering the feel of Castiel's lips on his as he slid off into sleep. His dreams were all intangible and incomprehensible, like he was traveling through a heavy mist of various places and events with no understanding of where he was or what he was doing. Eventually, something solid seemed to take shape below him, and his skin started to prickle with goosebumps. Absentmindedly he drew his blanket higher over his body before remembering that he was in his bed, sleeping, and it was Friday morning. Grumbling, he threw the blankets off himself and swung his legs over the bed. The room came into focus around him, including its wooden walls and clothes littered all over the floor. He glanced over at his alarm clock. 6:52 a.m., it read. Eight minutes before the alarm went off.

He debated getting back in bed, but thought better of it, and made his way to the bathroom connected to his room. He turned on the shower with its creaky knob, undressed, and waited for the water to warm up. When it finally had, he stepped in cautiously and was immediately engulfed by the hot water and steam. He let it hit his face and wake him up, then washed himself quickly, stood under the water for a few more minutes, and turned the water back off, wrapping a towel around himself. By the time he got back to his bedroom, an annoying beep was coming from his alarm clock, but it stopped abruptly once Dean pressed the little button on the side.

Dean hastily threw on some boxers, jeans, sneakers, and a plaid flannel shirt, walked out of the room, and turned on the kitchen lights to make some breakfast. One bowl of frosted flakes, an orange, and a cup of coffee later, he was just about ready to go. "Hey Sammy, you up?" he called down the hall. A distant muffled "Yeah, just a minute," answered him. Dean finished packing up his bag and waited for his brother. Once he finally was ready, they started walking to school. Technically Dean could drive, but ever since their Impala had gotten keyed one day in the school parking lot, he decided walking was safer. It was only about three-quarters of a mile away.

"So, dude, what was with you last night?" Sam asked him.

"Hm?" Dean replied, spaced out and oblivious.

"You were gone for like, an hour, then you come back and walk right past me without saying a word and go straight to bed. Where did you go? What happened?"

The memory of what had happened hit Dean like a freight train. "Oh. Er... nothing big." _Ha, nothing big. That's a good one._ "I just met up with someone is all." Dean regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

"Oooooh, it was your new boyfriend, wasn't it? Did something... _happen _between you two?" Normally Dean would have just told his brother off for being stupid, of course that wasn't it, and like he's been telling him, Castiel is just a friend, nothing more. But now, he wasn't so sure, and Dean found himself at a loss for how to respond.

"Stop making such a big deal out of things, Sammy," Dean said at last. "Nothing _happened._ I'll... tell you about it later, maybe."

"But I thought you said nothing happened?" Sam pointed out with a devilish grin. "What would there be to tell?"

"Drop it, Sammy," Dean said, with a note of hostility he didn't intend. It made Sam shut up, though. Dean wasn't about to tell his little brother about what happened. Especially when Dean himself wasn't fully sure. He made up his mind to go to the stargazers' club room at lunch to try and sort out everything that had happened. He was definitely apprehensive about seeing Cas again, but he knew he didn't really have a choice.

Math class took even longer than usual, it seemed. Probably due to the fact that Dean had absolutely no idea what a logarithm was no matter how many times the teacher had tried to explain it. He ended up giving up on filling in his notes, and instead took to staring out the window at the light rain that kept coming and going. He was gazing outside and sighing so much that a girl at his table joked that he looked like a lovesick puppy.

History class, however, was over in the blink of an eye. He was going to plan out what to say to Cas during lunch, but the teacher had them busy all class long and Dean still hadn't even figured out how he would greet him.

Once the lunch bell rang, he rushed to the club room, stopping outside the door for just a moment to finalize his plan. He was just going to act casual about it, there wasn't any need to freak out, just walk in the classroom and say hey like always. That was it. Just be cool and casual, and everything would work itself out.

He took a breath and opened the door.

"Hey, Cas, I was just..."

But Castiel wasn't there. Dean exhaled loudly. Of course. Probably went to the bathroom or had to stay behind and talk to a teacher. Dean sat himself down in a chair and began eating his turkey sandwich, waiting for Cas to show up. He waited one minute. Two minutes. Five. He got out his binder and finished up the English homework due next period. Another five minutes. He got out his phone and started playing a game. Soon there were only ten minutes left of lunch. "God damn it Cas, where are you?" he grumbled to himself, nearly slamming his phone down on the table. If Castiel was shy about what happened, Dean understood, but that didn't mean he could just go and ditch him. Dean finally left the room when there were only two minutes of lunch left; his next class was on the opposite side of the school.

Glancing out of a window on his way to English, he could swear he saw a familiar trenchcoat and dark hair by the baseball field, but by the time he stepped back to the window and looked again, it was gone. He sat through all of English class frustrated and confused and was glad to go work in his father's shop after school. Polishing weapons and lifting heavy boxes helped take his mind off of things, as well as burn some of his frustration off in some nice manual labor.

Of course, though, he couldn't help sending a text. Maybe Cas was home sick, and that was just some other random person he saw.

**Cas, where were you today?**

Sent 6:42 pm

Nothing.

**I get it if you're feeling shy or something, but you can't just ditch me like that, man.**

Sent 6:46 pm

He stared at his phone, but there was no reply.

**Come on Cas, reply already, this isn't funny.**

Sent 6:50 pm

Dean distracted himself with his Xbox for a while, but it became increasingly obvious that he couldn't focus on it.

**Cas. Please.**

Sent 7:03 pm

Giving up, he put down his game controller and phone and slid on a jacket. "I'm going for a walk," he announced to no one in particular. The air outside was cold as always, and he was glad for his flannel shirt and jacket. Dean wandered around in the woods a while, with no set destination in mind. He just needed to clear his head. He didn't really understand any of what was happening. But at the same time, it was all fairly clear. He liked Castiel. And from what it seemed like, Castiel liked him, too. Why did people always make such a big deal out of everything?

Dean found himself in the clearing once again, but he wasn't really surprised. Maybe he was heading here this entire time, and just didn't realize it. He half-expected to see Castiel spread across the grass, gazing upwards peacefully, not a worry on his mind. Dean imagined himself sitting down next to him, cracking jokes and laughing, with them enjoying each other's presence under the night sky. But of course, Castiel was nowhere to be found.

"Cas," Dean asked to the stars and trees and to the imaginative figure of the blue-eyed stargazer, "Where are you?"

Dean didn't hear from Castiel that entire weekend. He did his best to distract himself with video games, TV, guitar, homework, helping his dad... but it was all useless. Dean had never realized how extremely boring his life was, especially now with baseball season over. The most interesting thing he did all weekend was work on his history project, and that was horrible. Frustrated with Castiel and with himself and just about everyone else in the world, he vowed to find Cas on Monday so he could finally get this annoying conflict (or whatever the hell this was) worked out.

So when the lunch bell rang on Monday at 11:50, Dean practically sprinted out the door and set his plan in action. He had decided that the figure near the baseball field was definitely Cas. Besides, it was the only lead he had. He made it to the door exiting the school to the baseball field in record time (about 20 seconds) and hid behind a wall. He felt a bit silly, especially when passersby started giving him weird looks, but this was the only way he could think of to find him. And sure enough, less than thirty seconds later, Castiel passed right by him without even noticing, absorbed in some large book. Dean reached out and grabbed Castiel, who jumped, made a sound like a frightened mouse, and dropped his book. Dean rolled his eyes and picked up the book without looking at it. Castiel faced him, and a shocked look came over his face. "Dean... what are you..."

"Come on, Cas," Dean insisted, tugging on his arm. He became aware of several pairs of eyes watching him. "We need to talk." He led him through the hallways, neither speaking a word, until they at least reached their club room and Dean slammed the door behind them. Castiel suddenly widened his eyes in what looked like fear, and Dean regretted closing the door so aggressively. He tried to make his voice as gentle as possible to make it clear he wasn't threatening him. "Look, Cas, I just need to know what's going on here. I've been getting worried. You _did _get my texts, didn't you?"

Cas nodded submissively, directing his gaze down toward the ground.

"Come on," Dean said, gesturing towards a large desk next to them. He sat himself on top of it and motioned for Castiel to do the same. After a second of hesitation, Cas lifted himself up onto the desk as well, but keeping a bit of distance between them. "Now, tell me what's going on."

Castiel remained silent, and looked down again.

"Cas, _please,"_ Dean begged, placing his fingers lightly on top of Castiel's.

"I... I'm sorry, Dean. I fear I might have... overstepped my boundaries. It would probably be best if we didn't meet so often, so that I can sort out myself and try to prevent future mishaps." Castiel's words began to come easier now, but were stiff-sounding, as if he had planned out these words carefully. "I deeply apologize for any offense I have caused you. It was a moment of unusual hastiness, on my part, and I will attempt to control myself better from here on. I understand completely if you harbor any anger or resentment toward me, and I can only ask for your forgiveness." His words were controlled enough, but Castiel's hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes began to glisten. When he finally looked up at Dean, he looked fearful, as if he was expecting to be hit or yelled at. All the anger and frustration within Dean immediately vanished, and his only desire was to make these tearful, scared blue eyes shine once again.

"Cas... I don't know what the hell you were thinking, but it's not like that at all. Oh, Cas..." Dean reached gently for Castiel's hair, brushing it back, and kissed him gently right above his eyebrows, then drew him in for a hug. His left hand landed on Castiel's back, and his right hand grasped the back of Castiel's head, playing with the short dark hairs there. Castiel was completely stiff. After a moment, though, his hands landed awkwardly on Dean's back. Dean took a slow breath and pulled back, looking straight into Castiel's eyes. "Listen, I know this is kind of a weird situation we're in. I don't really know what to think, either. But don't you think for a second that what happened was wrong, or that you 'overstepped your boundaries.' I mean, you don't... regret it, do you?"

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but only seemed capable of shaking his head side-to-side slightly.

"Good," Dean declared, as if the matter were resolved. "Because I don't regret it, either. Besides, wasn't I technically the one to kiss you in the first place?"

Castiel looked surprised at the last comment, but whether it was because he said he didn't regret it, or because he said he was the one who engaged the kiss, or just because he explicitly mentioned what happened, Dean wasn't sure.

"... Thank you, Dean."

"For what?"

Dean didn't get a reply. Not that he was really expecting one. Instead, Castiel asked, "So, um, how do you propose we proceed in our current situation?"

"See, that's the thing, Cas," Dean laughed. "I have no fucking clue."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean found himself looking forward to the club meeting that evening. He wasn't really sure how this whole thing with Cas was going to work out, but he was relieved that Cas's misunderstandings seemed to be over. Instead of being something that stressed and frustrated Dean, it was more like an adventure now. He felt like as long as they could talk to each other like they did today, everything would work itself out.

There were still about ten minutes before Dean had to leave, so he reached in his backpack to take out his binder. Maybe he could actually get his homework done early, for once. Instead of his binder, however, his hand ran across a large unfamiliar book. He pulled it out and looked at it. It was dark blue with frayed edges. The cover was filled with cartoony pictures of planets and stars, and the title read in big letters: _Let's Find the Constellations!_ He realized with a start that this was the book Cas had dropped earlier that day. Dean supposed he must have subconsciously put it in his bag after picking it up. He took his phone out of his pocket.

**Hey, Cas, this star book is yours right? Should I just return it tomorrow?**

Sent 6:32 pm

The reply came quicker than Dean expected.

**oh is it in your possession/ i thought i had lost it.**

Sent 6:33 pm

Dean began to text him back, but his phone vibrated mid-sentence.

**bring it tonight.**

Sent 6:33 pm

With nothing else to do (he had lost interest in doing homework), Dean flipped through the book. It was definitely designed for kids, maybe fourth or fifth graders. Every page listed a different constellation at the top with a description below, and a large image of it on the adjacent page. There seemed to be a game throughout the book, giving a certain number of points for each constellation you could spot. He opened to a random page and began to read.

Orion

Orion is one of the easiest-to-spot constellations in the sky. It is located on what we call the "celestial equator." Orion was named after a hunter in Greek mythology. Its brightest stars are Rigel (see p. 62) and Betelgeuse (see p. 60). You can see it best in January and February in the evening sky. Its seven main stars make an hourglass-shaped pattern, with four stars making a big rectangle, and three stars in the middle. (7 points if you find it!)

On the right page was a picture of the stars, with big red lines connecting them. Dean couldn't help but feel amused at Castiel's choice of book. It was cute. He could imagine Castiel reading it intently, squinting his eyes in that way he does whenever he tries to focus on something. The thought made Dean chuckle. He wondered if Castiel was trying to find them, and whether he was keeping track of his points. Knowing Cas, it seemed pretty likely.

Dean also took a look at the pages for Columba and Gemini before seeing that it was time to leave. As he opened the door, he heard Sam call out jokingly from the couch, "Have fun with the boyfriend!" Dean rolled his eyes and slammed the door behind him.

He reached the clearing first, so he lay down in the middle of the grass, supporting his upper body with his elbows and forearms on the ground. He thought he had managed to find Orion, and was just debating whether one cluster of stars was Gemini or not when a voice sounded not two feet behind him. "Hello, Dean."

Dean jolted up, startled. "Holy sh- Cas, don't sneak up on me like that, man."

"Apologies."

"Oh, I brought your book," Dean said, crossing his legs and handing the book over to Cas. "Where'dja get it from, anyway?"

"I found it in my bookshelf yesterday. I suppose my mother brought it with us when we moved here. It was a gift from my father."

"Oh, is your dad an astronomer or something?"

"No. It's... sort of a long story."

"We got time," Dean pointed out, patting the ground next to him. Castiel lay down, placing his head in Dean's lap. Dean couldn't help but smile down at him. It was nice that they could be close like this now. He placed his hands in Castiel's hair, playing with the tufts he found and combing through them. Castiel closed his eyes and exhaled slowly before speaking.

"I acquired an interest in the stars many years ago. We lived in a rural area in Salina, about 140 miles west of here. Our house was on top a large forested hill. We had very few neighbors, so it tended to just be my parents, siblings, and myself alone the majority of the time. There were very few children our age in the vicinity, so I was in solitude quite often. My father was a priest at the local church, and part of a very highly-structured American Christian society. Eight years ago, he was promoted, and offered a job in Vatican City. Our family was... lacking in proper finances, so he accepted.

"Around that time, I spent much of my time outside at night, so much that my mother was becoming concerned. From what I recall, I had insomnia, and found more comfort outside under the sky than closed off in my bedroom, which I had to share with Gabriel. Practically every night my mother found me outside and scolded me. My father, however, was proud. Apparently, it was his dream to become an astronomer or astronaut before he got involved with religion. He gave me this book for my eighth birthday, just a few months before he left." He paused and studied Dean's face for a moment before continuing. "The last time I saw my father was the Christmas after I turned twelve. He gave me a telescope. According to my mother, he had been saving up for it all year."

"Why haven't you seen him since?"

"Just after that Christmas, he and my mother came into conflict. She was upset that he was spending so much time away from home, and she didn't understand very much about his religious work. She told him to either give up the church or leave the family completely. So he left."

Who would have thought that this kid had so much to say? But he still hadn't offered any opinion on the matter, which Dean found strange. "So... what's your take on everything that happened?"

Castiel shifted his gaze before answering. "My mother is a kind woman. She makes mistakes, but she always means well. And the memories I have of my father are warm, happy ones. I regret what happened to them, but it is not my place to judge who is right or wrong."

Dean nodded slowly, still comprehending everything. He had never thought much about Castiel's past or childhood or family. He felt bad that Cas had grown up in such a torn family, but he could sympathize, and in all honesty it gave Dean a bit of a thrill to think of how much of his personal life Castiel was divulging to him.

"So that's how you got interested in astronomy, huh... it's a shame you couldn't get anyone to join your astronomy club, besides me. With more people, it could be an actual official school club."

"I don't want more people, Dean," Castiel blurted out. "I want it to be just us two. I don't need anybody else but you." Apparently just realizing what he had said, his cheeks flushed and turned pink. Dean smiled, leaned his head down, and pressed his lips to Castiel's forehead.

"Don't worry. I feel the same." After a moment, he added, lowering his tone, "So, forty minutes left, with just the two of us, all by ourselves, in the middle of the woods. What should we do now?" He slowly brushed his fingers down Castiel's jawline.

"We could use my book to try and find the constellations."

Dean covered his mouth and tried desperately to keep himself from laughing. Cas seemed to feel him shaking, because he got up from Dean's lap and sat facing him instead. "Why are you amused, Dean? Did I say something strange?"

"No," Dean said, at last gaining control of himself. "Don't worry about it. But what say we make it a little more... _interesting?_"

Castiel tilted his head. "Interesting? Do you mean like a game or competition of sorts?"

"Yeah, kinda like that." Dean pondered for a moment. A brilliant idea popped into his head, and he smiled a devilish grin. "What if we went through every page, and for the first person to find each constellation... the loser has to kiss the winner for as many seconds as there are points?" Right after he said it, Dean wondered if he had gone too far. They'd only kissed once (twice technically, but he wasn't sure whether that counted as two or not), and with Cas being the shy, quiet kid he is...

"Auriga."

"... What?"

Cas pointed northward at a cluster of stars. "Those bright stars shaped like a skewed hexagon. The first constellation in the book." He showed the pages to Dean. "See? Auriga. Now, I believe I was promised a prize. Eight points, unless I'm mistaken."

Dean was taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered himself. "Fair enough. Come scoot closer, then." His heartbeat sped up as Castiel shifted closer to Dean and fixed him with a calm, expectant gaze. Would this kid ever stop surprising him?

_Probably not,_ Dean thought, cupping Castiel's face with his hands and bringing it closer. _But that just makes it all the more interesting, doesn't it?_ He closed his eyes and gently pressed Castiel's lips to his. Castiel was a surprisingly good kisser, Dean thought, and their kisses had just developed a steady rhythm when Castiel pushed him back. Dean looked at him inquisitively.

"That was eleven seconds," Castiel pointed out, panting slightly through his wet lips. "I only got eight points."

"Consider it a bonus. For getting it right so quickly that I didn't even get a chance to look at the page. Now then, what's the next one?"

Castiel also got Canis Major, Columba, and Dorado, for four, six, and seven points, respectively. Of course, each kiss ended up lasting a few seconds longer than planned, but even Castiel didn't seem to mind much anymore. They flipped to the next page, and Dean saw his opportunity and took it. Gemini. A twelve-pointer.

"There," he pointed, hardly even needing to glance up. He was suddenly grateful that he had arrived early and had time to look at a couple pages.

"You cheated," Castiel whined.

"What makes you say that?" Dean grinned.

"You didn't even need to look. You knew that one beforehand."

"And where, pray tell, is your proof for that outrageous accusation?"

"Oh, shut it, Dean."

"Why don't you make me?"

Castiel didn't seem to need further convincing. He grabbed Dean's face and brought it to his own with surprising force. After connecting their lips once, he bit Dean's upper lip and pulled on it slightly, staring down Dean's eyes with an intensity that Dean had never seen there before. _Well, that settles it, I'm gay_, Dean decided, bringing their mouths back together. The kiss was far more heated than any of the others, and lasted a good twenty seconds until they drew back to catch their breaths and gather themselves back together.

"I... I think that'll do it for today," Dean suggested at last, wiping off his mouth with his sleeve.

Castiel nodded, clearly as stupefied as Dean felt. "Yes, we can... pick up later, I suppose."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Alright. Sounds good. Yeah."

"I'd... best get back to my mother."

"Yeah, and I have a crap ton of homework due tomorrow, actually..."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then, Dean?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Cas..." And, with one final peck on the lips, they parted ways, minds still recuperating.

When Dean stepped in the door, Sam immediately bounded on him, asking "So how'd the meeting with the boyfriend though? Did anything exciting happen with him?"

"Yeah, actually, it was pretty great," Dean replied, still dazed and off in some other world. "Thanks for asking."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean groggily pulled open the front doors of the school, heading left through a crowded corridor toward his history class. He had skipped math that morning, falling asleep after turning off his alarm clock. A yawn escaped him for about the tenth time since he woke up fifteen minutes ago. Waking up two hours later didn't seem to make him much less sleepy than he had been at 7, largely due to his lack of time to relax before leaving. He had practically run through his house as he changed, packed his bag, ate some jerky, threw some food together for lunch, and left, jogging most of the way. Of course, he had made it to school seven minutes earlier than he needed to. The fact that it was only Wednesday didn't lift his spirits much, either.

Dean was feeling very pitiful for himself, as a matter of fact, until he approached his classroom and saw the door open, and about the only person who could cheer him up walked through it. "Cas?"

"Dean," Castiel met his gaze, squinting his blue eyes inquisitively. "What are you doing here?" Giving Dean a quick once-over, he asked, "And why is your face all red and sweaty? And why is your shirt inside-out?"

He glanced down and saw that his shirt was, indeed, inside-out. "Shit," he grumbled, before realising that Castiel was still expecting an answer. "I just got here. I ran basically the whole way."

"Do you have a free period?"

"Ah, no. I... er... skipped math this morning," Dean admitted, hesitating under Castiel's condemning gaze.

"You shouldn't do that, Dean," he lectured, much like a mother scolding a child. "As a student it is your responsibility to be present in class in order to better grasp the curriculum, unless you have good excuse. Now promise me you won't skip class again."

"But-"

"Promise me, Dean."

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I promise."

"And by class I mean all of your classes."

_Well, there goes that loophole_. "Okay."

"Ever again."

"O- Wait, ever again? Isn't that a bit harsh?"

"Fine. At least until the end of the school year."

"Alright, fine. I, Dean Winchester, promise to not skip another class without good excuse from now until the end of this school year. That good enough for you?"

"Yes."

"Good, then, I believe that settles the mat... ter..." From across the busy hall, Dylan had just spotted them, and began walking toward them at a surprisingly fast pace. Dean cursed under his breath. "Cas, go on ahead, I'll see you at lunch, 'kay?"

"But wh-"

"Just go, please, I'll explain later." He gave Castiel's arm a quick squeeze before turning away from him and facing the approaching annoyance-in-human-form.

"Dean, dude, what's going on? I haven't seen you in over a week, man." Dylan was smiling, but Dean could sense the hostility hiding behind his loud words. "We all thought you were sick or something, but Becca's friend said you're there every history class. Don't tell me you're still hanging out with that creepy kid," He sneered, giving Dean a look that made it quite clear he had seen them talking casually a minute before. "What's his name again? Kestrel? Caster?"

"His name is Castiel," Dean said flatly.

"Ahhh, right. Weird name to match a weird kid. Well, I hope you're done pretending to be his friend. I mean, how could you possibly be friends with a guy who beat up a bunch of people half-to-death last year? I mean, a morals-obsessed guy like you would want to steer clear of that, I'd think. Gotta admit, kid's a bit of a creepy bastard."

Dean balled his hands into fists. "Don't call him that."

"Don't call him what?" Dylan questioned, speaking slowly, putting space in between each word. "Weird? Creepy? Psycho? Worthless little bastard?"

Dean said nothing, but his green eyes blazed in hatred and anger.

"Stop playing this stupid little game of yours, Winchester. I'm trying to help you out, here. It won't end well if you keep playing with fire. Now, take my advice: stop hanging around with that kid, and come back to reality. I'll expect you to be at the usual table at lunch today." Not waiting for a reply, he turned around and marched out the way he came.

Dean was seething all history class. _How dare he talk about Cas like that? He doesn't even know him! Just accepts those goddamn rumors for truth. Why the hell did I ever hang out with assholes like him?_ He gripped his pencil so hard during a quiz that it snapped in two, making at least half a dozen people around him jump and look over at him in confusion before resuming their work. He placed the two halves of the pencil back down on his desk, leaving half the answers blank. It was impossible to focus, anyway.

Well, it was clear where his loyalties lie, now, at the very least. He had nearly forgotten about his other friends in the past week or two. Dean had always seen them as annoying, but before meeting Castiel, he never clearly saw just how mean, vicious, secretive, false, and hostile they all were. He had sort of just assumed in the past that all people were like that, and there was nothing he could really do about it, so he may as well just try and fit in with the crowd. And that's what those sort of people were aiming for. To trick better people into thinking their way was the only way, so that they could have another chew toy to pass around. It was disgusting, really. Why couldn't he see that before?

One thing was for certain. Dean was _not _going back to that table. The table where the "popular" kids made tasteless jokes and those lower on their little hierarchy laughed because they had to. The table where fights and drama broke out everywhere, and more often than not somebody would end up crying or yelling. The table where the guys only talked to Dean to mess with him, and the girls only to practically proposition themselves to him because of his looks. No, Dean had found something much more worthwhile, and he had no intention of letting go of that any time soon.

So, at lunch, Dean headed straight toward the club room without a second thought, but keeping his head down and trying to hide himself in the crowd just in case anybody was taking notice. Once he reached it at last, he slid through the door and closed it firmly behind him, dropping his backpack off his shoulders and onto the floor. Castiel was sitting on top of a desk against the opposite wall, drawing something in the sketchbook against his legs. He glanced up for a moment upon hearing the door click shut, then focused back on what he was doing. "Hello, Dean. Could you come here for a moment?"

Dean was unsure what this was about, but did as he was asked. "What is it?"

"Turn that desk around," he said, nodding toward the desk in front of him, "and turn it towards me and sit there, if you would."

Dean obeyed, still a bit confused, but he had learned already that it was best to just not question what Cas decided to do.

"Better. Thanks." He looked down and continued drawing, clearly very focused on whatever it was.

Unable to decipher anything from Castiel's expression, Dean asked, "So, um, do you want me to explain what that thing was about?"

"Thing?" Castiel furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Oh, you mean earlier today, when that large person approached you. Go ahead."

"Well, that was Dylan. I've mentioned him to you before, haven't I?"

"Yes. I believe you referred to him as an obnoxious dick. Go on."

"He's all upset that I haven't been eating lunch with him and the others anymore. They're all crazy, over there. Don't seem to be overly fond of you, that's for sure. They seem to think you're a bad influence on me. Bit ironic, don't you think?"

"Hm? Yes. Of course," replied Castiel, glancing up briefly.

"I mean, I don't know how I never saw it before. I wish I'd met you a long time ago, Cas. Having to deal with those sons-of-bitches every day was hell. Did you ever have friends like that?"

Castiel continued working in his sketchbook for a few seconds before looking up at Dean. "Oh, did you ask me a question?"

Dean sighed in exasperation and stood up to retrieve his lunch from his backpack. Clearly, trying to continue the conversation was useless, and he may as well eat until Castiel had finished whatever he was doing. But Castiel stopped him before he could take two steps. "Wait, Dean, don't turn away yet."

"What? Why? What are you even doing?"

"Well, my new art project that was assigned today was to draw a person you admire. I did as much as I could during class, but it's more difficult to draw the smaller details when you're not there."

Dean's eyes widened as he realized what Cas was saying. "You're... drawing _me_? As a person you admire?"

"Well, yes," Castiel affirmed. "It seemed to be the obvious choice."

Dean wasn't sure how to respond. It was touching, really, and while Cas didn't seem to think much of it, it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for Dean. "Can I see it?" Dean asked, leaning over the paper.

"No!" Cas hugged the sketchbook to his chest, preventing Dean from seeing it. "It's not done yet."

"Caaaas, come onn, just a little peek..."

"I said no, Dean," he argued, closing the sketchbook, standing up, and walking to a different part of the room. Dean could hear the amusement in his voice, though, so he followed him.

"You're so mean, Cas, if I'm the model I should be able to see it, shouldn't I?"

"You will when it's done," he replied indignantly. "In the meantime, you'll just have to wait patiently until I-"

In a single fluid motion, Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulder, spun him around, placed his other hand on his waist, and brought him in for a kiss. Castiel dropped his sketchbook within a second, and Dean broke the kiss and grabbed it off the floor, grinning victoriously.

"Dean," Castiel spoke with a fearful tone that immediately erased Dean's grin.

"What is it? Did I go too far? I'm so sorry, Cas, I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's not that," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Somebody... somebody was watching us."

A chill ran up Dean's spine, and he whirled around, but nobody was in the window to the hallway.

"I didn't get a chance to see who it was, but somebody was definitely there."

"Are you sure? I mean, they are tinted windows, and you'd have to look pretty hard to see clearly through them. It wasn't just somebody walking by?"

"I don't think so."

Castiel was shaking slightly, and Dean felt a strong urge to comfort him. He took Castiel's right hand in his left, pressed their foreheads together, and stroked his hair with the other hand. "Hey, Cas, it's okay, it's fine, don't you worry. Even if they were looking, it would be hard to make out exactly who we were and what we were doing, right? And, chances are, it was just some random curious person walking by. Nothing bad's gonna happen, okay? It's alright."

Castiel nodded slowly, seeming to draw some strength from Dean's words. "Yeah. You're right, of course. Thanks. I feel better now."

Dean only wished he could say the same.

A day had passed, and nothing had happened yet, so Dean had finally begun to calm down. He was constantly on the alert, watching for any signs of people looking at him strangely or laughing behind his back or _anything _that might show that somebody _was_ watching, but so far all was well, and Dean was grateful for that. He was, in fact, quite hopeful that it was just a random passerby and nothing was going to come of it.

That is, until the end of lunch, when he had just exited the club room and began to head toward chemistry.

"Hey, Winchester, had fun with your boyfriend yesterday, did you?"

Dean spun around, eyes wide open, heart sinking quickly, but he couldn't find the source of the voice with so many people around.

_Shit. Shit. SHIT._

_Calm down, maybe... maybe it was a different Winchester? _

_Dean, really, how many damn Winchesters do you think are at this school, in this hallway, right now?_

_Or... maybe whoever it was just knew that he and Cas were hanging out a lot recently, and was making speculation. Right? That could be it, right?_

_Then why did they say 'yesterday'? _

A group of girls passed by him, glancing at him cautiously and giggling.

… _Fuck. How many people know?_

His thoughts moved directly to Cas. _Cas. Damn it. He was so scared of this happening... oh god, I hope he doesn't know..._

Dean nearly started running to go find him and make sure nobody was bothering him, but logic took hold, and he realized that that would only draw more attention to them. And class would start in just a few minutes. Hopefully he was already in his next classroom, and those people didn't know. His next class was Latin, right? Yeah. And only the smart kids who wouldn't care about this sort of thing are in Latin, right? Dean hoped so.

Chemistry class was fairly uneventful, but Dean kept hearing giggles and whispers, and whether they were real or just his paranoia, he wasn't sure. Either way, he ended up spilling some sodium hydroxide on himself toward the end of the period, and had to spend the last twenty minutes of class washing his hands over and over at the sink, feeling the weight of several watchful eyes on his back. He had never wanted to skip a class more.

After the school day finally ended, Dean decided to take a longer, less common route out of the school. The last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by people staring at him or speaking to each other in those annoying hushed voices that concealed nothing.

Dean immediately realized what was going on. He rounded the corner just as Rebecca screamed, "HE WAS MINE FIRST!"

"Rebecca," Dean warned, "Get away from Cas."

"Oh," she faced him, "Dean, I didn't think you'd-"

"Do I need to repeat myself? Get. The fuck. Away from him." He glanced over at Castiel, who was cornered against the wall, beginning to shift away from her; his face was strangely void of expression.

Rebecca looked completely horrified, and she opened and closed her mouth several times dumbly before backing away. After a moment of being seemingly paralyzed, her eyes filled with tears. _Of course. Always the victim._

"It was your friend, wasn't it?" Dean asked calmly, with sudden understanding of exactly what had happened. "The one in my history class? You had her follow me, didn't you?"

"Dean, you... you... you're so mean! You don't understand anything!" And with that, she ran off, sobbing loudly as she possibly could down the corridor. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself before turning to Castiel. But by the time he opened his eyes, he was nowhere in sight. Dean's thoughts started racing, and he wondered with foreboding if Castiel was going to have yet another breakdown and tell him that it was okay if Dean wanted to leave him. Because Dean was getting really tired of those. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by something vibrating in his pocket.

**im sorry. wanted to minimize further conflict and unnecessary attention by leaving separately from you. meet me at the usual place in 30 minutes.**

Sent 2:46

The clench over his nerves was lifted slightly, but Dean was still concerned, and immediately set off for the woods. He couldn't stand waiting to know what this was all about, and he found himself running most of the way. What the hell did that girl say to him to make Cas's face look that expressionless?

As he half-walked, half-jogged through the town's concrete sidewalks and dirt side-roads, Dean addressed the looming question that had been floating in his mind since lunch: How would this change things? Would this end up affecting Cas's and his relationship? Would they have to start meeting in secret, or even stop meeting at school completely? The thought seemed to drop a rock in his stomach. He didn't want it to come to that. He didn't want him and Cas to become the secret gay couple of Lawrence Hills, with rumors and whispers flying in all directions. He didn't want to spend the remainder of his high school years hiding and trying to ignore the stares and giggles. And most of all, he didn't want any harm to come to Castiel. Cas hadn't done anything wrong. Dean had a strong desire to throttle whoever it was who told everyone about them, be it Dylan or Rebecca or the other sons of bitches who felt the need to interfere in what was none of their business.

Dean quickly threw down his backpack inside the front door of his house and headed back out. There were still about fifteen minutes left, but waiting around wasn't going to accomplish anything. He tried to clear his mind and stop worrying as he made his way through the trees and brambles. Worrying wasn't going to help Castiel feel better, and, for now at least, that was the only thing that mattered.

Castiel looked unexpectedly calm and serene. He was leaning against a large tree, hugging his legs, trenchcoat spread on the ground under him. His head rested on top of his knees and his eyes looked upwards with a somewhat vacant expression. Dean sat down by his side, and took one of Castiel's hands in his own, intertwining their fingers. Castiel turned and smiled sadly at him. "You're early," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well, so are you." He briefly pressed Castiel's hand to his lips before continuing. "So, what's on your mind?"

Castiel shook his head slowly. "Too many, things, Dean. We should have seen this coming. They couldn't leave us alone forever. They never do."

"Yeah," he considered. "Maybe. So, what did she say to you?"

"I pity her, Dean. I really do." He paused for a moment and gazed seriously into Dean's eyes. "Before I tell you what she said, I want you to promise me something."

"Seems like I'm making an awful lot of promises lately." But he saw that Cas was serious about this, so he agreed, "Sure, anything."

"Don't seek revenge on her."

"What? Why not?"

"Dean, I want you to see this from Rebecca's perspective, for a moment. She clearly has very strong feelings for you-" Dean scoffed audibly, and Castiel glared at him. "Don't undermine her feelings for you, Dean; from what I perceived, they are very strong, and have existed for a long time. She has tried very hard to catch your attention for several months, and, from what I gathered, you've barely done so much as look at her."

"Well, obviously." Dean's temper flared up slightly. "Why would I ever want to go out with a slut like her?"

"Dean," Cas warned. "Listen to me. Her feelings for you could nearly contest with mine. And she has been suffering for a long time now, watching you go through several different girlfriends... oh, save it Dean. That's not important. And then suddenly, you're not even around anymore, and to top it off, when she sends her friend to discover where you'd gone, she finds out you're not just going out with another random person; it's a guy. Now her chances of ever being with you are further compromised. If I were in her position, I would have likely acted irrationally, as well. So please, Dean, she can hardly be blamed for her actions. I would like you to forgive her, if you can, but for now I only ask that you resist the urge to seek revenge on her."

Dean marvelled for a moment as Castiel's sense of empathy. He was just screamed at for something that wasn't his fault, and now he was begging Dean to forgive the girl who had cornered him. It was sort of amazing, really. "Alright, if it means that much to you, I won't But I still need to know what it was she said to you."

"I was walking down the corridor when she grabbed me and informed me of her wish to speak to me, alone. So she led me to where you found me, as practically nobody exits the school that way. She told me that I wa dragging you down and pulling you into my strange little world and that you were better off without me and I should just go away. She explained how she'd had her eye on you for ages and gotten closer and closer until I apparently waltzed into the picture and screwed up everything she had been working on. She seemed very upset. And she told me that if I don't keep my distance from you, she would... cause trouble."

Dean knew that Castiel was softening it for him. "Cas, what were her exact words."

"That... if I didn't 'back the fuck off,' she would make our lives 'a living hell.'"

"Fuck," Dean cursed, wanting desperately to punch something. Instead, he exhaled slowly, trying to breathe away his anger, and placed his free hand on his forehead. He knew what he had to do, now. He couldn't let this happen to Cas; he couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt. Dean knew that he had to do the right thing, but that didn't make it any easier. "Cas, I think we're going to have to-"

"No," he interjected stubbornly. "Don't even say it."

"It'll just be for a little while, until we can work out-"

"I said _no,_ Dean," he asserted, raising his voice. "We're not going to let them win."

"Cas, look, I don't want to either, but keeping you safe is-"

"That's bullshit, Dean." His eyes were blazing with blue flames. "And you know it too. Just because you're scared doesn't mean you have the right to-"

"Scared? Are you kidding me?" _Why couldn't he understand?_ "I'm trying to _protect _you here, Cas. I'm trying to help you."

"If you're truly only acting for my sake, then, damn it Dean, _listen to me._ I can take care of myself. I'm not some little damsel in distress that you need to save from the big bad monsters. I don't need you to handle every single one of my problems for me. I don't need your skewed little heroics. I don't need you to pretend to act for the greater good, when in reality you're just scared of seeing me get hurt and feeling responsible for it. Do you want to know what I need, Dean? I. Need. _You. _ Just you, by my side, facing whatever happens together and fighting with me, against the whole world if need be. So, are you with me or not?"

Dean was still hesitant, but it was clear that no more argument could be given, and somewhere deep down he knew that Castiel was right. He forced his muscles and mind to relax. "Yeah," he responded finally. "You're right, as always. We're getting into some pretty deep shit right now, but I'm with you."

Castiel settled back into the tree at his words, turning to him and smiling. "You're an idiot, you know."

"That may be true," Dean admitted, pressing a kiss to Castiel's jaw, "But I'm _your_ idiot."

"Mmm, that's true," he agreed happily. Dean continued to press kisses to different part of Castiel's face, moving from jaw to neck to cheek as Castiel shifted his head accommodatingly. At last he reached his lips, and pressed them together gently.

"Hey, Cas..."

"Hmm?"

"Let's go on a date this weekend. An actual one, instead of just at school or here."

Castiel pulled his head away from Dean's face, instead resting it on his shoulder. His gaze didn't move, though. "What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno. Anything. Everything. Movies, lunch, dinner, amusement park, you name it. Saturday work for you?"

"Yeah," Castiel said after a moment of consideration. "That sounds nice. I'd like that." And he fixed Dean with such a content, hopeful expression that Dean found himself thinking that everything might turn out all right in the end, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Even the jeers, laughs, and even a shove or two that Dean received during school on Friday failed to put much of a damper on his mood. He had slept through the majority of math class, so if anybody was talking about him in that class, he didn't notice. On his way to history, a few passing groups had made faces at him and whispered amongst themselves, but Dean had just smiled at them and even waved at one of them, as a result making them so confused they shut up immediately. At the beginning of lunch, somebody shoved him, but that might have just been some angry kid shoving whoever was nearest at the time, but even if it wasn't, they didn't stick around to create a real conflict. At the end of school as he passed through the front doors of the school, somebody had kicked his shin and whispered the word "fag" in his ear, but, to the kid's surprise, Dean had just laughed at him. He wasn't going to let any of those idiots bother him. Because he had a date with Castiel the next day, and none of them could do anything about it.

"Hey, Dad," Dean asked his father in his workshop on Saturday morning, "Can I use the Impala tonight for a couple of hours from like 6 to 9:30?"

"The Impala?" His father asked, setting down the gun he had been polishing. "Why do you need it?"

"Oh, I was just going to go out with some friends. I'll make sure I don't scratch it or anything. If... if you want, I can wash it up for you or polish the wheels."

His father considered him for a moment, then shrugged and returned to polishing his gun. "It could use a good wash. Tell you what, finish stacking up and sorting those boxes, wash up the car, and I'll let you take it out tonight. So long as you're careful with it."

Dean felt a wave of relief. His father hadn't trusted Dean with the Impala much ever since it got keyed in the school parking lot. Not that it was his fault, really, but it had been in his father's eyes, and he hadn't been allowed near the car for a good month after that.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be careful with it, promise."

So Dean had spent the next hour joyfully sorting boxes of paperwork and materials and weaponry, checking everything three times over just to make sure nothing was off. He then moved to his next task of washing the Impala. Turning the key in the ignition and hearing the purr of the engine as he backed it out of the garage gave him an indescribable sort of satisfaction, and he whispered "I missed you, baby," to the dashboard before stepping back out and closing the door. By the time he was done a half hour later, the car was a perfectly sleek, shiny black without a spot to be seen anywhere. Even the wheels were completely cleaned out so that Dean could easily see his reflection. The thought of driving up to Castiel's house that evening in a newly washed and polished Chevy Impala made him feel invincible. It was going to be a perfect night. Dean admired his work, puffing out his chest in pride, and gave himself an approving nod before turning to head back into the house. He decided to sent Cas a quick text.

**Hey, we're still on for tonight at 6, right? **

Sent 12:43 pm

He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels while he waited for a reply , but he didn't have to wait long.

**of course. did you ask your father about the car/**

Sent 12:45

**Yeah, we're good, I'll pick you up. What's your address?**

Sent 12:46

**2376 arbor drive**

Sent 12:46

**Great, thanks. See you tonight.**

Sent 12:47

Time passed by quickly enough. After looking up direction's to Castiel's house (and reading through them so many times he had them memorized), Dean busied himself with some stupid television show for a half-hour, then played Assassin's Creed II on his Xbox for the majority of the remaining time. It was extremely addicting, and he had nearly finished the main storyline of it. Finally, at about 5:15, he decided it was a good time to stop, and turned off the console and headed upstairs to get ready. He debated between dressing casually or dressing himself up a bit; casual clothing was probably most appropriate, but a part of him wanted to wear something special for his first date night with Cas. But then what if Cas was just wearing his usual clothes, and Dean ended up looking silly for dressing fancy? Or what if it was the other way around? Dean shook the thoughts out of his head, and chastised himself for overthinking. In the end, he went with his best jeans, a button-up red plaid shirt, and his steel wristwatch, as well as a comfy black jacket in case it got too cold. He checked himself in the mirror before leaving. Outfit looked good, face was free of blemishes, and the hair... he ruffled through it a bit with his fingers. Better.

At 5:40, Dean grabbed his keys and brown leather wallet, stuffing it in his back pocket, and headed out the door. It was still fairly light outside, unlike it would have been a few weeks ago. It was now the middle of March, so while it was still chilly enough, the air seemed to hold a hint of spring. It was nice. Dean readied himself for a moment before getting in the Impala and turning on the ignition. He easily followed the directions he had memorized earlier that day. Left on Wilson Street, right on Maple Grove... He popped one of his Guns N' Roses CD's in and joined in the music, losing himself in it, playing the drum beats on the steering wheel and singing along to all the words of Sweet Child O' Mine. Nothing like some good music to start off the night.

The song's last note faded out just as he turned the corner into Arbor Drive, and he ejected the disk and put it back into its case. Now, then, 2359... 2363... 2369... 2376. There it was.

Castiel lived in a smallish one-story house. It was made mainly of red brick, with white molding on the sides and on the windows, complete with a gray roof on top. A brick path led up to the front door, which had a white wicker chair on each side. It was cozy-looking, but not untidy; the grass was recently mown, and the porch looked very comfortable and quaint. Dean pulled up next to the house, put the Impala in park, and strolled up to the door, hesitating for just an instant before putting his knuckles to the door and knocking.

The door was almost immediately opened by a blonde woman somewhere in her forties. She was tall and skinny, long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Her face looked tired and her eyes were slightly puffy underneath. They bore a striking resemblance to Castiel's eyes, but slightly more friendly and not quite as piercing. She smiled widely as soon as she saw him, and a few years seemed to lift from her face. "Ah, you must be the famous Dean! I've heard so many great things about you. Give Castiel a moment, he's just finishing getting his things together. Oh, don't just stand there, come in, come in!"

Dean, not at all used to being fussed over, stepped inside cautiously, and Castiel's mother led him into their kitchen on the right. "Want anything before you-all head out? A snickerdoodle, maybe? Just baked them yesterday."

"Oh, no thank you, Mrs. Novak, I'm fine."

"Please, just call me Jeanne. Oh, Dean, it's so nice to finally meet you! Castiel has just told me so much about you. Bless him, the child has so much trouble making friends. Always has, back to preschool days. I'm so glad you two found each other. He's just such a sweet kid, you know, he deserves someone like you in his life. And he's been so much happier in the past month, I can't thank you enough."

"Mom, I'm right here, you know." Castiel stepped into the doorway, leaning against the wall. He looked... _amazing. _It was probably the first time Dean had seen him without his tan trenchcoat. Instead, he was wearing a well-fitted black polo shirt, dark brown pants, and black sneakers. His forearms were bare, and Dean couldn't help but notice how lean yet muscular they were. His dark hair, usually messy, was parted to the side and combed out. Castiel clearly wasn't used to being dressed this way, but he looked stunning nonetheless.

"Castiel, you never told me Dean was such a handsome boy," Mrs. Novak complained. "Oh, Dean, go stand next to him, I want a picture of you two together before you leave." Dean went and stood by him as his mother went to grab her phone.

"Is your mother always like this?" he whispered.

"Always," Castiel confirmed.

Mrs. Novak returned within seconds, a small silver camera in her hand. She held it up to her face, then frowned and lowered it. "Oh come on, now, act like you like each other." Dean awkwardly placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder and smiled. She seemed satisfied by this, and shot three pictures from different angles before dismissing them. "Alright, go have fun, you two," she told them, sending a quick wink their way before turning around and going into the other room, probably to check the pictures she had just taken.

"Ready to go, then?" Dean asked, giving Castiel another quick once-over. Castiel nodded, so he took his hand and led him outside.

"Wow," Castiel commented as they reached the Impala. "That's... quite a vehicle you have, there."

"Isn't she something? Now come on, get in," Dean opened the passenger door for him before walking around and getting in on his own side, closing the door firmly after him. After checking that Cas was situated, he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.

"So, not like I don't dig the outfit, Cas, but what made you decide to wear something different today?"

"I was planning on wearing my normal attire; however, my mother wouldn't allow it. She told me I needed a more special outfit for a special night, so she picked these out for me to wear." Dean silently thanked Castiel's mother for her wise judgment.

"So I take it your mom... knows about us?

"Of course," Cas replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why wouldn't she?"

"But she's actually, like, okay with it?"

"Dean, she's not just okay with it, she's completely _thrilled._ Everyday after school she practically jumps on me and asks if I saw you and asks me questions about you and tells me how much she wants to meet you. Do your parents not do the same?"

Dean scoffed. "Not by a longshot. My Dad'd kill me if he ever found out I was in a relationship with a guy. He has this big expectation for me to be this big macho guy who hunts and plays football and goes out with a bunch of chicks. Doesn't really help that my mom's been dead for twelve years, either."

"I... I never knew that." Castiel gazed at him curiously. "I'm very sorry to hear of your circumstances."

"Oh, it's not so bad," Dean spoke up, feeling the need to defend himself. "My dad just wants the best for me, it's just I can't quite live up to his expectations. And my mom, well, obviously I wish she was still around, but we get on well enough without her." Spotting the look on Cas's face, he assured him, "Really, Cas. It's fine."

"If you say so." Dean could tell Cas was still unsure, but Dean didn't want to discuss the flaws in his personal life at the moment; tonight was just about him and Cas, nothing else.

"Mind if I turn on the radio?"

"Go ahead."

He reached over and pressed a button to turn it on and began searching through the stations for some good music. After a few rejects, he found his favorite rock station playing Eye of the Tiger. He grinned and glanced over at Castiel. _This alright?_ he tried to convey with his expression. Castiel raised an eyebrow and gave him an amused smile. Dean decided to take it as approval and thus starting bobbing his head with the beats and humming along. Besides Sam, Dean had never really had anyone else to be himself around, and it was nice to add one more person to that list. Once they reached a red stoplight, Dean drummed the steering wheel and lip-synced the lyrics to Cas, who let out a snort and turned away, shaking with laughter. A honk sounded behind them, and Dean jerked up and saw that the light was green. He stepped on the gas and continued on the road.

"Perhaps you should pay more attention to the road, Dean."

"Well _perhaps_ you should be less distracting."

The drive continued in similar fashion, switching between radio stations and songs and occasionally making comments and flirting. After ten minutes or so, Dean pulled into the parking lot of the Eastglade mall. It was the main source of entertainment in Lawrence, with all the shops, restaurants, theaters, and just about anything else somebody could need. They parked and got out of the car. Dean held his hand out to Cas, who took it, and together they headed toward the movie theater.

"So, Cas, any idea what you want to watch?"

He shook his head. "I don't know what's in theaters."

"Well, I guess we can just see what's playing and go to whatever seems interesting."

But at that moment Castiel stopped in his tracks and squeezed Dean's hand. "Dean."

"What? What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, look. Look at that sign." Castiel pointed to a large white sign posted just next to the entrance of the mall.

Outdoor Ice Rink Grand Opening!

11 a.m. - 9:30 p.m.

$12 per adult, $8 child's price

Next to the sign was a map of the mall, with an arrow pointing to where the ice rink was located. "What about it?"

Castiel stared at him intently. "I want to go ice skating, Dean."

Dean paused. "Really? You'd rather that than a movie?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever even been ice skating?"

Castiel looked upward, as if sifting through his memories, before answering. "Once or twice, I believe, when I was little. I remember it as being very enjoyable."

The last time Dean had been ice skating was in middle school, for some girl's birthday party. But he could see Castiel had his heart set on this. "Alright, if that's what you want to do. Let's grab some food first, though, I'm starved."

Dean decided to take him to his favorite diner. It was probably the smallest restaurant in the mall, but one of the most well-decorated: it was all 50's style with retro blue and white furnishings, old Coca-cola and hamburger ads decorating the walls, and a jukebox near the front that played mostly old rock-n'-roll. It also happened to have the greatest burgers Dean had ever tasted.

A cute blonde girl in the uniform red-and-white striped dress and hat greeted them and sat them down at a small booth. The restaurant was nearly full, the music practically inaudible over the chatter and loud conversations of the other customers sitting around them. Castiel became immersed in the menu, gazing at it as if it held all the answers to the universe.

"Dean, there are so many options. How does one possibly choose between all of these?"

"You sound like you've never been to a restaurant before," Dean commented with a chuckle.

"Of course I've been to a restaurant before. It's just... been a few years."

"A few _years?_ You... what do you even eat?"

"My mother and I cook all of our own meals. It's healthier that way, and far less expensive. Is that unusual?"

"A bit, yeah."

A waitress came over to take their drink orders. Dean ordered a coke, and Castiel hesitated before blurting that just water is fine. As soon as she left, Castiel flipped to the drinks page and scanned it.

"Dean, water isn't listed on here. Should I have ordered something else?"

"No, Cas, they serve water. It's free, so they don't put it on the menu."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Castiel seemed to sink back into his side of the booth in relief, before picking up the menu once again. "Dean, what should I eat?"

"Whatever you want. It's on me. The burgers here are amazing, though."

Castiel seemed confused. "What's on you?"

"As in, I'll pay for whatever you want."

Castiel dropped the menu on the table. "No, Dean, I'll pay for my own share."

"Nope, sorry, this date was my idea, so it's my job to pay. That's how it works." That wasn't fully true, but he wasn't going to let Cas pay. Clearly his family had little enough money as it was. "Now go on, decide on something. As for me, I'm gonna get one of their Classic Double-Stacked Burgers."

"I'll have the same, then," Castiel decided at last. "I trust your judgment as to what is best here."

When the waitress came back by with their drinks, they placed their orders, and Dean decided last-minute to order them a large chocolate malt. The burgers arrived seven or eight minutes later, and Castiel seemed taken aback by the size of it. They were huge, with fluffy wheat buns, a large beef patty, and tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, onion, and some sort of sauce inside. Cas held his burger in his hands and rotated it, as if deciding where he should best start from. Finally he opened his mouth as wide as it would go and took a large bite out of it. His eyes opened wide as he started to chew. "Dern birf ers abazin," he declared excitedly through his stuffed mouth.

"Cas, I can't understand you if you have food in your mouth," Dean smiled, taking a bite out of his own burger. Castiel struggled to chew it as quickly as possible and swallow it all.

When his mouth was finally empty, he repeated, "This is amazing."

"Isn't it?"

Castiel devoured his burger with a ferocity Dean had never seen in him before. He finished when Dean was only about halfway through, and licked his fingers. Little bits of sauce and grease and cheese surrounded his mouth. "Uh, Cas, you got some stuff..."

"Hm?"

Dean grabbed a napkin and leaned over the table, cleaning the food off Cas's face. Castiel smiled at him widely before directing his attention to the virtually untouched chocolate malt between them and fervently taking several spoonfuls of it, taking breaks only for an occasional sip of water. Dean couldn't help but stare. Castiel had always been more of a quiet, mysterious sort of kid who said little and betrayed nothing in his stony, cool expression. He always seemed to be sucking in the whole world with his eyes, and giving nothing out. And yet here he was with Dean, smiling and laughing and practically emitting happiness and energy. It was amazing, the more Dean thought about it.

"Come on, Cas, don't eat the whole thing. I haven't gotten any, yet."

Castiel paused halfway through lifting a malt-filled spoon to his mouth. "Here, then," he suggested, instead putting the spoon next to Dean's mouth, "Eat."

Dean accepted graciously and opened his mouth wide so that Cas could feed him. It was deliciously creamy and chocolatey as always, but being with Cas seemed to make it taste even better.

When they had finished, Dean paid at the counter and they left for the ice rink. The rink was outside the back exit of the mall, in what used to be an empty field. It was decently sized ellipse, about 200 by 80 feet. Glass panels bordered the sides, as well as railings for beginners. Tall lanterns illuminated the otherwise dark rink, with Christmas-like strands of yellow lights connected between them. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

They went up to the little ticket counter next to it and ordered two tickets and pairs of skates, size 10.5 for Castiel and size 12 for Dean. Together they sat on a small wooden bench and changed out of their shoes, putting them in the little cubbies. They stood up on their new skates and Castiel immediately stumbled.

"Come on Cas, it's not that hard," Dean assured, pulling him back up. "Here, just try walking around a bit before we get in the rink." He held his hand and together they walked around the bench for a minute or two until Cas was confident. Luckily the rink was mostly empty, save a family of four, a group of little kids, and an old couple who were surprisingly agile.

They stepped up to the ice level, and Dean took the first step onto the slippery ice, gripping the railing with his right hand and holding onto Castiel's hand with his left. Castiel hesitated, but seeing Dean's confidence, put his right foot on the ice, and added his left a moment later. Dean let go of the railing so that Castiel could hold onto it, and stepped forward and began gliding at a slow pace, with Cas doing the same alongside him. Clearly, however, letting go of the railing was a bad idea, because before they had gone ten feet, Dean leaned forward too much and began to slip, then leaned back to try to fix the problem, but, in effect, fell back completely onto the ice, accidentally pulling down Castiel with him. Dean tried to pull himself up, but his hands slipped and he fell once again, crashing back into Castiel. They looked at eachother for a moment, then spontaneously burst out laughing, receiving a few dirty looks from two small children who glided by easily. Dean was distantly reminded of his and Cas's first accidental meeting in the clearing, when he had fallen over into Castiel and they had both fallen down into the snow. That had been the first time Dean had ever seen him laugh, he reflected.

Castiel was the first to get up and regain his balance, so he extended a hand to Dean, who gratefully took it and pulled himself up. They took turns holding onto each other's arms and onto the railing and falling occasionally, until over time, the skating became easier and more natural. A half hour later, practically everyone had left the rink except them and the old couple. Dean still stumbled from time to time, but Castiel had seemed to unleash a hidden talent for skating, and Dean found himself constantly gripping his arm for balance.

"Dean, can you let go for a minute? I want to try something."

"Oh sure, don't let me drag you down. Seriously, just go ahead, I'll wait here. I could use a little break anyway."

Castiel nodded his thanks and set off. He skated around the rink slowly in a basic lap, then, seeming to build some daring and courage, sped up. Dean watched breathlessly as Castiel spread out his arms and glided over the ice, switching from left foot to right, and testing out a small jump. His eyes seemed to light up when he landed perfectly, and soon enough, he seemed to be floating on the ice, aesthetic and graceful as a bird in flight or paintbrush on a canvas, delicately carving his path and leaving imprints on the snowy white ice beneath him. He leapt, glided, and even made a few spins, always landing perfectly and beautifully, and the lights illuminated his figure beneath the starry night sky. His face seemed to radiate peace and warmth and happiness, as if all of the beauty and perfection in the world was hidden behind those gorgeous blue eyes, leaking out. He was the most perfect thing Dean had ever laid eyes on.

Castiel finally made his way back to Dean, directing his gaze at him, and before Dean could even think of what he was doing, he had pressed their bodies together, keeping one hand on the railing and placing the other on the small of Castiel's back. Castiel didn't move away, but instead parted his cold, pink lips, and Dean captured his mouth and took in its sweet taste, no longer aware that there was a world outside the two of them, and not caring. It was unlike anything that either of them had experienced before. All Dean knew was that he needed Castiel, needed him more than his lungs needed air, more than his heart needed a beat. He slid his tongue gently across Castiel's lower lip, and Castiel immediately complied and opened his mouth, allowing Dean to explore. Their tongues met and slid together, deliciously, intoxicatingly, and Dean thought his heart would burst out of his chest. He sipped Castiel's full, chocolate malt flavored lips once more before pulling back and looking into his starry eyes, now-messy hair, and perfectly chiseled face.

_So this is it, isn't it?_ Dean contemplated with wonder, losing himself in Castiel's warmth. _This is what love feels like._


	9. Chapter 9

A week and a half passed by fairly uneventfully. Ever since that date night, though, Dean and Cas had been closer than ever, and were together almost more often than they weren't. During school during breaks, they could often be seen walking to each other's classes, going so far as to hold hands. If there had been any uncertainty in the school of whether they were actually together or if it was just some silly rumor, there was no doubt now. And that seemed to confuse a lot of people at first. Everyone was used to spreading rumors and gossip and basking in the drama, but now, the relationship between Dean and Castiel was a fact that nobody was trying to hide or obscure. The mouse in their cat-and-mouse game was refusing to run, and nobody seemed to know how to react to that.

But, of course, they found ways. Some just decided to ignore it and move onto more interesting things. Unfortunately, however, that was the minority. Others would still whisper and giggle and look and gossip, now choosing to spread rumors about the content of their relationship. Many hypothesized that Castiel was abusive and was only using Dean for his own pleasure, and that Dean was a masochist who secretly enjoyed it. Others thought that Castiel was threatening Dean to go out with him, and that if Dean refused, he was going to go on another rampage like at the last school. All of their ideas somehow seemed to involve Castiel being some evil psychopath or sociopath. Many people clearly believed them, too, because from what Dean could tell, people had stopped bothering him. Nobody really knew who Castiel was or what he was capable of, so they tended to just steer clear. (Which was probably a good choice for them, as Dean was willing to kill anyone who laid a finger on him.)

The problem was that people weren't scared of Dean, since everyone already knew him as just a typical easygoing guy. And now, a good portion of the students at Lawrence Hills had changed their opinion of him to match his new identity as the gay masochist. Thus whenever Cas wasn't around, Dean faced constant staring, name-calling, and a few shoves or kicks here and there. It never got serious, though, so Dean tried not to worry about it too much, and did his best to ignore them. He'd long since stopped caring about what everyone else thought.

It seemed that the students weren't the only ones taking an interest, either. It was now Thursday, April 4th, and Dean was currently in the middle of music class. He was sitting in a corner of the room working on memorizing some different chords on one of the school's acoustic guitars when a TA from the office entered the room and handed a yellow slip of paper to their music teacher, Mr. Scott. Mr. Scott muttered a thank you and slid his square glasses over his vacant eyes to read it. After concentrating on it for a moment, he raised his head and searched around the room, then found Dean and locked his eyes on him. Dean was grateful that it was individual practice time; everyone was too absorbed in their instruments to notice anything going on around them. "Dean Winchester," Mr. Scott said absentmindedly as he handed Dean the slip of paper. "For you."

Dean took it and read through it, mildly annoyed. It was a guidance counselor summons. It read:

Dean Winchester (Room 847),

Please come to the counselor's office, Room 522, at a time that is most convenient for you and your teacher between the hours of 10:30 and 11:45.

Signed, Mrs. Lowery

Dean checked to make sure the teacher had turned away, then crumpled the paper into a small yellow ball and tossed it into the trash. He'd gotten an identical slip yesterday during history class. His history teacher had bid him to go, so Dean left, but instead of going to the counselor's office, wandered aimlessly around the hallways and returned after ten minutes or so. He had a good idea of what the counselor wanted him for. Most likely, some naive girl decided to try and be helpful by tipping off the counselor that Dean was being bullied, or maybe she had passed on one of the many extravagant rumors regarding Dean's shady personal life.

Whatever the case was, Dean did not want to have to explain himself to some weird lady whose job it was to listen to teenagers' rants and problems and sob stories and try to make them feel better. Dean was fine. He could deal with these things on his own. Besides, why would he want to talk about his problems to some random person he didn't even know when he hadn't even talked to Cas about everything that was happening? There was no need to involve anyone else, Dean figured. If it got really bad, he'd tell Castiel, and call for help where it was needed, but until then, there was no need to make others worry about him pointlessly. He could deal with a couple of teenage brats by himself.

Luckily Mr. Scott didn't notice that Dean never left for the counselor's office, so Dean was spared another day. It was turning out to be a pretty good day, actually; lunch with Castiel was nice as usual, and nobody really bothered him during lunch, classes, or after school. He and Cas were even able to walk home part of the way together.

He had just stepped in his house and begun to head upstairs when he heard his father call him from the kitchen. "Dean, could you come here a minute?" His voice held a note of tension, and Dean wondered with dread if he had made a mistake in the workshop again yesterday. _No, _he thought, _that can't be it, I checked everything at least twice before leaving..._

Dean dropped his backpack next to the door, then strolled into the kitchen as casually as he could and leaned against the tile counter. "Yes, sir... is something wrong?"

"Dean, I just received a call from the school counselor."

The words twisted in Dean's gut like a knife. But he stayed calm as he possibly could. He could feel his father's gaze burning through him, and until Dean knew what exactly the situation was, he refused to show any signs of guilt, comprehension, or anything else that would just screw him over later.

"Oh, really?" Dean struggled to keep his voice steady. "Yeah, they called me in at fourth period, I think, but I got kinda involved in this piece of music we were working on and I ended up forgetting that I had to go over there and I don't really know what they even wanted me for but I mean it's probably not anything important but don't worry I'll go in tomorrow so you won't be bothered again and I'm really sure it's nothing they sometimes just call in kids randomly for questions about classes and teachers and stuff so-"

"Dean."

Dean shut up and tried to stop himself from turning red. "Yes, sir?"

"I know."

"...Know what, sir?"

His father fixed him with a glare that could have cut through metal. "Oh, just drop the goddamn act already. I heard it all from your counselor. About you and this new... _boyfriend_ of yours, causing a ruckus all over the school." When Dean said nothing, he continued. "Son, I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull here, but it needs to stop. Are you _trying _to be ostracized here? Do you have any idea of the shit that's going around about you and this guy?"

So, this was how it was going to be, then. Fine. "Look, half the stuff going around isn't even true-"

"I don't give a damn if it's all true or not, Dean. Clearly there's something going on between you two, and I will not have my son be the queer kid of his high school. I raised you better than this. This is what you've been doing these past few weeks, isn't it? Going and playing gay with this kid in the evenings? I'll bet that's where you were on Saturday, too. The hell are you thinking? You know, for a while, I was actually starting to get proud of you. You had a bunch of friends, everyone loved you, hell, you won the baseball tournament for your school. Just for a moment, I thought, this is a son I can be proud of. Can you believe that? I was _proud _of you. And just when you were finally getting somewhere, you decide to abandon everything and go hang out with some weird gay kid. What were you expecting to happen? That there wouldn't be any consequences?"

Dean tried to control his growing temper. "Dad, listen, I'm completely aware of what I'm doing and-"

"No, Dean, I really don't think you are," his father insisted, voice raising. "You have no goddamn idea what you're doing. The rest of your high school life is going to be hell if you keep this up, and I don't want you to be an outcast. I will not be the father of the joke of the school. You're better than this, Dean. You've had your fun little adventure, now, but the game ends here. You need to cut it out, now. Get out of this stupid little phase of yours, and back to the real world. I want you to stop seeing this kid, and apologize to everyone for being a stupid teenager who had no idea what he was doing, and get your life back on track while you still even have the chance."

"Just let me explain-"

"There's nothing to explain. Now listen to me, you-"

"No, YOU LISTEN TO ME!" Dean shouted, punching the wall with such force his knuckles started to bleed. He was taken aback for a second at his sudden outburst, feeling just as surprised as his father looked. But the words wouldn't stop tumbling out of his mouth. "For once in your life, just listen to me. You're wrong. Castiel is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and he's given me more support and happiness in this past month than you have throughout my entire life. Because you know what? He accepts me. Me, for who I am, not some distorted image of a perfect child that you take me for. I'm not that perfect son. I'm sorry if I can't live up to your expectations, or if I'm just a disappointment to you, if I'm not the star of the football team, if I'm not the most popular guy at my school. That's not where I belong. I know where I belong now, and it's with him. Why can't you understand that?" Dean's words trailed off, and his hand that had punched the wall began to throb with dull pain. But his father's eyes were as icy as ever.

"Is that really what you think? This random, shady guy who you know nothing about, you suddenly decide that you _belong _with him, instead of all your friends and family who have loved and supported you for the past seventeen years? You teenagers like to go through weird phases, I get that, but this one needs to stop here and now. I'm only doing this because I care about you, Dean."

"Care? Are you fucking kidding me?" He began to choke through his words, but continued. "Since when, have you _ever_ cared, about me or my life or what I'm going through? You've never taken an interest in me, you've never cared what I do or hang out with, but now that it doesn't suit you, you think you can just dictate everything I do?"

"Exactly how stubborn and ungrateful can you be? This is just getting ridiculous. You have absolutely no idea what you're saying. You stop this shit, right now. And I mean _now. _I'm not going to live under the same roof with a son who thinks that this weird little gay obsession of his is more important than his family. And until you decide to learn some respect and common sense-"

Sam's tall figure entered the kitchen and stepped in front of Dean defensively. "Dad, that's enough." Neither of them had heard him come in, so they were both shocked into silence for a moment. But soon enough their father saw what was going on.

"Sam, did you know about this?"

"Yes," Sam responded firmly. "I did." He gave Dean a small smile and pat on the arm that said, _Don't worry, I'll take over from here, go do whatever you have to do._

And Dean knew what he had to do. Trying to ignore all the thoughts swarming around in his head, he turned around and walked from the kitchen, made his way to his room, and grabbed a suitcase from the back of his closet. He could hear Sam and his father arguing down below, but he couldn't decipher specific words, not that he was really trying to. His mind was a giant cloud of fog, and nothing was really very clear at the moment. He fetched a few sets of clothes from his closet and threw them in, and tried to think of what else he should put in, but his mind was at a blank. He zipped it up, grabbed the handle, and bounded back down the stairs, ears catching a few more lines of the ongoing argument in the kitchen.

"Dad, I know you're upset, but that doesn't mean you have the right to interfere in things that aren't your business..."

"Interfere? You're my sons, it's my job to make sure you two are headed on the right track, and Dean's... I don't even know what the hell he's pulling right now, but I will not stand for it."

Without another word, Dean picked up his backpack and stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him. As he reached inside his backpack to take out his phone, he discovered that his hands were trembling, and the corners of his eyes were beginning to sting. He took a few breaths to stable himself, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed Castiel's number.

_Please pick up, Cas, please..._

It took four excruciatingly long rings, but there was a pause and Castiel's husky voice came on.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas, listen..." Clearly Dean's voice had betrayed him, because Castiel's voice became ridden with concern.

"Dean? What's happened? Are you alright? Dean, are you okay?"

"I..." Dean opened his mouth to reassure him that he was fine, but realized that wasn't true at all. "No, actually, I'm not okay. My dad found out, Cas. I don't know what to do, I just left the house..."

"Can you come to the clearing?"

"What? Yeah, I guess, but..."

"I'm heading over there now. I suggest you do the same."

Dean was a bit confused, but led his feet over to the woods.

"Try to be there in five minutes." There was a pause, and Dean felt a spurt of desperation at the thought of Castiel hanging up.

"Wait, Cas, don't go, stay on the line with me."

"Just give me a minute." Dean heard a distant mumbling, as if he was talking to someone, but he came back on within fifteen seconds. "Dean, I've never heard you like this before. What happened?"

Dean began to explain what happened as he went into the woods, walking at first, then increasing his pace to a run. He told Cas about all the wild rumors spreading about them, about how people have been constantly bothering him, about the counselor's note, about his dad finding out and the fight they just got in...

Castiel said nothing during their trek but listened patiently, and when they both broke through the trees into the clearing, Dean came to a halt and caught his breath. Castiel had clearly run the whole way as well; his hair was ruffled by the wind and his face was pink from running. His blue eyes were directed at Dean, glistening with sympathy and something else Dean couldn't quite place.

They both lowered their phones, and Castiel advanced toward him. He gently cupped Dean's face with one hand and ran his calloused thumb over his jaw, studying Dean's face carefully.

"Dean, I..."

Without thinking, Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's smaller figure and held onto him as tightly as he could, as if he was being swept off into a hurricane and this person was the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth. He buried his face between Castiel's shoulder and neck and breathed in his sweet scent. Castiel returned the embrace and ran his hand up and down Dean's back soothingly.

"It's alright, Dean," he assured him. "We'll... we'll get through this."

"I... I don't know what to do, Cas. For once in my life, I have no goddamn clue what I'm supposed to do now. I can't go back there, not now, anyway. Where am I supposed to go?"

"Is it not obvious?" He pushed Dean back slightly and tilted his head. "You're going to stay at my house."

"I'm... going to... your house?" Dean echoed dumbly. As the idea sunk in, a strange sense of mixed relief and anxiety washed over him.

"For a few days, yes. Or at least until the tensions in your home life settle. I thought that was why you were calling me?"

"No, I didn't even... you're... you're awesome, Cas."

"Yes, yes, Dean, I am aware. Now pick up your things and follow me."

As soon as Dean slung his bag over his shoulder, Castiel grabbed his hand and led him through the tall trees and vague dirt paths leading to his home. They were both silent for awhile, the only sounds being the crunching of leaves beneath them and the light winds rushing through the trees. Dean had a growing sense of unease. It was unfair to ask this much of Cas. This conflict was with Dean and his family, and it seemed wrong to involve anyone else in his problems.

"Cas, are you sure about this?"

"About what?"

"I mean, I'm just probably going to be in the way of you and your mom, and I'll just be inconveniencing you; I mean, you shouldn't have to do this all for me when it was me who-"

"Stop being ridiculous, Dean," Castiel interrupted. "This isn't just a one-way street. You've helped me countless times already, so just this once, let me be the one to help you."


	10. Chapter 10

"Dean..." A voice called out to him from afar. It sounded familiar. It was a good voice... comforting, in a way...

"Dean, come on," the voice called out again, a bit less patiently. What did they want? He was so comfortable...

"Dean, wake up already!" Something prodded his chest and Dean slowly felt himself slowly gain consciousness. _Oh, I'm in bed, sleeping. _But he felt that he really didn't want to get up. This bed was so comfy, and he was so tired...

"Go away, Sammy," he mumbled, rolling over and pulling up the covers over his head. "Can't I just skip first class or something?"

"I thought you promised me you weren't skipping any more classes."

Dean's eyes flew open and he pulled the blankets off himself in surprise before the memories of where he was and why he was there leaked back into his mind. He relaxed and turned back over, finding himself face-to-face with Castiel's gorgeous blue eyes. "Well, good morning, beautiful," he said with a smile.

Castiel gave an exaggerated sigh and began to turn away, but Dean was able to detect a smile on his face before he had turned away completely. "Just hurry up and get dressed, breakfast is almost ready."

"What, no good morning kiss?" Dean joked, expecting Cas to walk out and slam the door, but instead Castiel turned back and pressed a gentle kiss to Dean's cheek before heading towards the door again. Dean absentmindedly touched where Castiel had kissed him, then asked, "Just on the cheek?"

Castiel made a face at him and stated, "You have morning breath," before leaving and closing the door behind him. Dean brought a hand to his mouth and smelled his breath. _Fair enough, _he thought with a shrug, turning to the bathroom to go brush his teeth with the toothbrush Castiel's mother had given him.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean had finished showering and dressing (jeans, red T-shirt, and brown leather jacket) and stepped into the kitchen, immediately greeted by the smell of waffles and sausage and the sound of bacon sizzling in a frying pan.

"Good morning, Dean!" Mrs. Novak greeted from across the room. She was grabbing plates out of a wooden cabinet, and Castiel (wearing a white T-shirt and his usual trenchcoat) was stirring scrambled eggs on the stove next to her. She set down the plates and ambled toward him with a wide smile.

"Morning, Mrs. Novak," he responded.

"Oh, just call me Jeanne," she reminded him. "Now, you can just sit in this chair right here; breakfast is just about done." She ushered him over to a dark brown wooden chair at a slightly beat-up but sturdy table, and Dean lingered a moment before sitting.

"You sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

"Oh, don't be silly, we have it under control. Now, do you want orange juice or milk?"

"Milk would be great, Jeanne," he replied with a smile, sitting down at last. It was the first full day since Dean had temporarily moved into Castiel's house, and so far, it had been one of the greatest times of his life. It was a bit strange to have so much attention directed at him; Mrs. Novak checked on him at least once every half-hour to make sure he was alright and wasn't hungry or thirsty and didn't need anything. He wasn't at all used to being cared for or looked after, and somehow, this place already felt like home just as much as his real house.

Within a minute, a plate was set down in front of him, stacked with two golden waffles with whipped cream and banana slices on top, a few pieces of fresh steaming bacon, and perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs, as well as a tall glass of milk. Dean immediately grabbed his fork and dug in. It was one of the most delicious things he had ever tasted.

"Holy crap, this is the greatest breakfast I've ever eaten," he praised after a few bites. "Do you guys actually eat stuff like this, like, every day?"

"Well, not every day," Mrs. Novak replied, bunching up her long skirt as she sat down, "But Castiel and I always try to cook a balanced breakfast. After all, it's important to kick off the day in a healthy way." Castiel sent Dean an amused glance before sitting down next to him with his own plate. "Why, does your family not do the same?"

Dean resisted the urge to laugh. "No, not exactly. I usually just get myself up and grab whatever's in the fridge. I haven't had a full-on cooked family breakfast in years." Right after he said the words, he could practically sense Castiel and his mother exchanging concerned looks. "It's alright, though," he added. "It's just none of us can really spare the time." That, and the thought of his father getting up early to make breakfast for him and Sam was near laughable. But he decided that saying that probably wasn't the best idea.

"Well, that really is a shame," Mrs. Novak said at last. "You should come over here more, then; we always have something nice baking. In fact, I was thinking of baking an apple pie today while you two are off at school."

"Well, if this breakfast is any indication, I'm sure it'll be great." The thought of having fresh-baked pie after school enthralled Dean, and suddenly he couldn't wait for the end of the school-day.

After finishing off his plate and placing it in the sink, Dean returned to his temporary room (a small guest room that hadn't been used in months) and finished getting ready and packing up. Castiel was already at the door waiting for him (how did he move so fast?) holding out a paper bag. Dean must have given him a funny look, because he stated, "Your lunch."

"Oh. Right." He grabbed the sack and stuffed it into his backpack. "We ready to go, then?" As Castiel nodded, his mother bustled out from the kitchen.

"Have a great day, you two!" she said, smiling, and embraced first her son, then without a moment of hesitation, drew Dean in for a tight hug.

"Thank you so much, Mrs- Jeanne. I really appreciate all you're doing."

"Oh, don't you worry about it. Now go on, you don't want to be late!"

Once the door had been shut behind them, Castiel gave Dean a weary smile and held out his hand. Dean intertwined their fingers (Cas's hand was surprisingly warm) and Castiel began to lead the way along the slightly wet roads to school. It must have rained the night before, Dean figured. They chatted about nothing in particular; the history teacher they both had and the upcoming test, a book Castiel had just finished reading, Castiel's old house, a dog Dean had a few years ago, something funny Castiel's mom had said... they just talked about whatever popped into their heads at the moment, sometimes laughing, other times walking in comfortable silence. They seemed to reach the school in no time at all.

A few heads turned upon their arrival, but neither of them really cared. The bell rang a few minutes later, and after a quick peck on the cheek (because, really, why the hell not) they parted ways and headed toward their individual classes. Dean had exams in both his math and history classes; he was near positive he had flunked the math test on polynomial graphs, as he hadn't even managed to finish it before the bell rang, and probably got a B- in his history test about the Great Depression. Needless to say, by the time it was lunch, his mind was overexerted and his movements were slow and drowsy. And so, as he made his way across the school to meet Castiel, he was completely unprepared for what happened next.

One moment, he was walking along a somewhat crowded corridor, still trying to figure out which president made the Great Society domestic reforms, and the next, a huge force slammed into his side and threw him against the wall. His mind snapped awake.

"Oh, look, it's the Winchester kid. Been awhile, hasn't it?" Dean straightened himself and looked at his assailants. _Great. _The large form of Dylan, as well as two other jocks whose names Dean had never bothered to learn, stood over Dean. The two others were about Dean's height, but they stood with their heads raised and faces looking down on him, clearly trying to appear more intimidating. And it was a bit intimidating, Dean had to admit, but he decided fear wasn't really the best option at the moment. The corridor seemed to immediately empty out. Clearly nobody wanted to stick around to watch. Dylan continued, "The way you just decided to disappear from everything, I was starting to think I'd never run into you again."

"Well, Dyl, I sure wish that were the case," Dean replied, forcing a smile. "But, well," he shrugged, "Here we are."

Dylan was smiling at him crookedly, with a cold, calculating look behind his eyes, as if weighing his next move. A shadow seemed to flit across his face after a moment, and Dean knew that he had made his decision. And it probably wasn't a good one.

"Well, now that I've got you here, and we have a minute to chat, why don't you just help me understand one little thing: what made you think you could just walk out of the picture and make the rest of us look like idiots?"

"The thing is, Dyl," Dean spoke up, gaining confidence in spite of the situation, "I realized that you all are dicks and I really don't need people like you in my life."

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, a blow landed right on the side of his nose, knocking a joint slightly out of place and filling Dean's face with pain. Not that he wasn't expecting it. But instead of grabbing his nose, covering the blood that was beginning to leak out of it, and running away like all Dean's senses were urging him to, Dean stood rock solid and didn't pull his gaze away.

Confusion swept across Dylan's eyes, but it was gone in an instant. "I don't think you quite understand the situation here, Dean, boy. You've made a laughing stock of our entire group. Now we're the guys who were always around the little queer masochist boy. I'm sure you understand what that's done to our... reputation."

"Yeah," Dean responded, quickly wiping off the blood that had settled over his lips, "Because you were oh-so-renowned by everyone to start with. Nobody gives a shit about you, you know. You think you're all that, but really are you are-"

Dylan shoved him against the wall. Hard. "You'd best shut that blabbering mouth of yours if you don't want to get hurt. In case you haven't noticed, you're just a bit outnumbered here. Three to one. Just think of all the things we could do." Then his eyebrows raised and his mouth formed a wide grin, and he turned to his jock friends, who were both glowering at Dean. "Oooh, I see it, now. That's what you _want_, isn't it, you little fag? I'm not deaf, you know. I've heard about all the things you and your "friend" do. About how much you love being hurt by him, the scars he leaves all across your body, those disgusting things you do every night. You're aching for it, aren't you? Well, who are we to deny you the pleasure?" And with that, he landed a solid punch into Dean's gut, forcing him to double over in pain. _Damn, this guy can throw a goddamn punch._ He refused to be a victim, though. He clenched his teeth together and did his best to steady his breath, and continued to glare daggers at Dylan.

"That not enough for you?" Dylan snickered, now towering over Dean. "Well, if you truly insist... Mason. Dirk. Why don't you see to the poor little fag's needs?"

But then just as Dirk, the larger of the two, menacingly stepped toward Dean and raised a fist, a gruff voice and fast footsteps sounded from an end of the corridor.

"Hey, assbutt!" Within two seconds, Castiel had sprinted to them and with an impossibly fast speed, then elbowed Dirk's chest and kicked his crotch with such force that he fell to the ground before he could even react. In spite of everything, Dean couldn't hold back a smile. _Assbutt? Really, Cas? _Castiel turned his blazing eyes toward Mason, who took a hesitant step back and ran away, leaving Dylan dumbfounded with a look of mixed shock, horror, and confusion. Castiel grabbed his throat and held him against the wall. He looked pretty damn scary, Dean had to admit, and he was infinitely glad that he wasn't in Dylan's place. Dylan struggled, but couldn't escape the hold. Castiel turned toward Dean for a moment, who gave him a slight nod to affirm that he was alright, then he faced back onto Dylan, who now seemed strangely small and weak, like a wolf suddenly turned into a stray dog.

"I take it you've heard about me?" Castiel snarled at him, eyes filled with rage. "About what I did at my old school that got me expelled? About that little rampage I went on when I got mad? Of course you have, I've seen the way everyone looks at me, little whispers in the hallway, the way people back away whenever I come near. You all fear me. Understandably." Dylan squirmed slightly, but Castiel only tightened his hold. "Now, I'm not really a person you want to piss off, am I? And, right now, it's not looking so great for you. Take my advice, now: don't give me another reason to be expelled. Neither of us really want that. Now, do you understand me?"

At first Dean thought Dylan must have been shaking so much he couldn't move or talk, but he nodded his head meekly, watching Castiel with fearful eyes.

"Good, then." Castiel released his grip, and Dylan fell to the floor. "But just allow me to make this perfectly clear to you so we don't reach any future misunderstandings: _Don't. Touch. My. Boyfriend. Ever. Again."_

Clearly Dylan didn't need further convincing, because he quickly scrambled to his feet and bolted. As soon as he was gone, Castiel turned to Dean and his expression softened from hatred and anger to affection and concern. He gently placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and scanned his face. "Dean, you're hurt..."

"Yeah," Dean spoke hoarsely, "I can tell."

"Come, we'd best get you to the nurse's office." Castiel supported Dean on his shoulders and began to walk, but Dean stopped him.

"Are you kidding? They're gonna ask questions. You think I can tell them what just happened? And risk getting you suspended or something?"

"They're bound to discover the truth eventually, Dean. I am prepared for detention or suspension if necessary."

"No, Cas, those three aren't going to say anything. You think they want the whole school to know they got beat up by you? And nobody else wants to get involved."

"Then what do you suggest? You can't just go to your next class like this," Castiel pointed out, looking down at the blood still coming out of Dean's nostril.

"You think we can make an exception to your no-skipping rule for today?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes in consideration for a few seconds, then agreed, "Fair enough." Dean wiped off his nose again and stood up straight, doing his best to ignore the pain in his gut. Walking normally would draw a lot less attention, and more attention was about the last thing he wanted. Together he and Castiel exited the school and walked all the way back home, with Castiel continuously offering to support Dean and Dean continuously rejecting the offer.

Mrs. Novak was outside watering the bushes in front of the house when they approached. She dropped the hose as soon as she saw them and spotted the dried blood above Dean's lip and the bruise that was beginning to settle on the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, Lord, what happened? Why are you home early? Dean, did you get hurt? Did somebody hurt you? Let me get an ice pack, I always keep one in the freezer..." Without waiting for an answer, she rushed into the kitchen. Castiel led Dean to sit on the large couch in their living room. It was old and the royal blue striped fabric was faded, but the material was extremely soft and comfortable, and Dean lay down on it and rested his head on the plush pillow at one end. They were home, now, and everything was going to be alright.

Castiel's mother returned moments later with an ice pack, which she insisted Dean put over his nose to reduce swelling and bruising. Meanwhile Castiel explained the basics of what had happened to his mother, who was visibly horrified, and by the end appeared close to tears.

"Oh, Dean, honey, I'm so sorry that happened, teenagers can be so mean and cruel sometimes... I'll call and tell the school you had a family obligation or something. Wouldn't want them to mark you truant. Ah, I forgot the hose is still on! I'll be outside watering and raking for the next half-hour or so, let me know if you need anything!" She dashed out the front door without another word.

Castiel and Dean both sighed in relief, then glanced at each other and smiled. Dean set the ice pack back down on the table (it wasn't really helping all that much, and most of the pain was gone already) and Castiel reached for the television remote and pressed the button that turned the TV on. He then handed it to Dean. "You can choose the channel," he dictated. Dean took the remote in his left hand and began to flip through the channels, most of which were either on commercial break or had some stupid romcom show on. Eventually he settled on a cops show. Seemed they were tracking down these two guys who had hacked into a company's database and stolen a large sum of cash.

Castiel settled himself down as well, laying partially on top of Dean, partially on the couch in front of him, and resting his head back on Dean's shoulders. Dean put an arm around him, and Cas tilted his head back and smiled lazily before directing his attention back to the television.

"I wonder how they were able to get past those security cameras," Castiel commented after a minute. "They must have had them hooked up to a different source of their own so that they could manipulate its footage to that extent."

"You do know that these shows are probably fake, right?"

"They are?" He sounded disappointed, and Dean felt bad for pointing it out.

"Pretty sure, yeah. Most of these sorts of things are, at least."

"I'm not sure they could easily replicate something like this, Dean. The details are very realistic and intricate."

"Mhmm. Whatever you say." He hadn't been paying much attention to the show, anyway, so it's not like he could tell. He was still a bit unfocused by the lingering dull pain, and it was especially hard to focus on anything else when Castiel was so close to him. "Hey, Cas."

Castiel ignored him, already back absorbed in the show.

"Caaassss," Dean persisted.

"Shh, I'm watching."

"Come onnn," Dean leaned over and lightly nibbled on Castiel's ear, trying to gain his attention. Castiel's face went slightly pink, but he still didn't respond. So, this was how it was going to be.

Dean moved downward from his ear, and brushed his lips along Castiel's slightly prickly jawline. "I'm wounded, Cas. I'm hurt. You're supposed to take care of me and do what I say, aren't you?"

"Just wait, this part is really interesting and-" Castiel let out a small gasp as Dean bit softly at the base of his neck. The sound sent a tingle down Dean's spine, and he intensely desired to hear it again. He bit just slightly harder at Castiel's collarbone, thankful that the T-shirt he was wearing was fairly low-cut. Castiel squirmed slightly, but clearly he was being stubborn, and refused to let himself be taken by surprise again.

"I'm not stopping until you listen to what I want to say, you know," Dean mumbled against Castiel's skin. He flicked his tongue over the area he had just bitten, then proceeded to take the skin between his teeth and suck on it slightly. Castiel let out another short gasp at this, and craned his neck to allow Dean better access. Dean took the opportunity and pressed kisses all over his neck, sucking and lightly biting the skin at random. He then proceeded upward and gently nibbled on Castiel's lower lip for a moment before fully pressing their lips together and cupping his hands around Castiel's face. Suddenly Dean felt himself being flipped around so that Castiel was on top of him, hands entangled in Dean's hair, and pressing his wet tongue between Dean's parted lips. Dean was a bit surprised at the sudden display of dominance, but opened up and allowed their tongues to meet, and placed his hands on Castiel's back, drawing them closer. The kiss was long and passionate, and Dean found himself absorbed in its warm, sweet taste. Castiel was finally the one to break it off, and his lips were glistening and his blue eyes were slightly clouded over as he whispered, "Dean..."

Dean's heart skipped a beat and he felt a sudden urge to rip Castiel's clothes off then and there. But that probably wouldn't be the greatest idea, so he contented himself with intertwining their fingers and pressing one final lingering kiss to Castiel's soft lips. Glancing over at the television, he noticed that the credits were beginning to roll. "Looks like you missed the ending to your show, Cas."

Castiel looked over and pouted, drawing away from Dean. "Great, now I'll never know how they did it..." He sighed and sat up. Dean did the same, and scooted over to Cas, hugging his arm.

"Hey, Cas."

"Fine, Dean, what is it?"

"Today, when you were telling off Dylan..."

"Mhmm?"

"You called me your boyfriend."

Castiel blushed slightly. "Well, that's what we are, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Dean smirked. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Just then a loud beeping came from the kitchen, and Castiel's mother rushed in from the yard. "Boys, pie's ready!" she called over her shoulder as she went to take out her apple pie from the oven. All annoyance Dean had at the interruption disappeared, and all he could think of was getting a taste of what he knew would be an absolutely delicious pie.

"Well then," he stood up, pulling Castiel up off the couch. "Shall we?"


	11. Chapter 11

Dean woke to darkness and a sore throat. It must have been just before dawn; the window on the wall to his right revealed a dark gray sky. Dean reached over to his bedside table and picked up his phone. 5:50 a.m. He let out a discontent grumble and attempted to roll over and fall back asleep. It was Monday morning, so he planned to get as much sleep as he possibly could. But it became clear that his throat wouldn't allow that. So with a wide yawn, he threw the covers off himself and put his feet over the edge of the bed. The one night he didn't have a glass of water next to the bed was the one night he needed it. Typical.

He cautiously felt his way through the hallway; Dean still wasn't adapted to this house well enough to easily know where he was going in the dark. He reached the kitchen and turned on the light, which nearly blinded him for a moment, then grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with some water from the fridge. The water was cool and refreshing down his parched throat, and he downed the glass in a few thirsty gulps and placed it back down on the counter, satisfied. _Now then, let's try to get another hour of sleep before we start another crappy schoolweek. _

As he made his way down the hallway, he thought he heard something over the creaking of the floorboards under his footsteps. An animal, maybe? A dog scuffling around and whining? Wait, no. The Novaks didn't have any dogs. Dean paused and listened. Another small noise. Was... was it a burglar? No, no, that's ridiculous. Right? The sound came again, accompanied by something that sounded like a whimper. Yeah, probably not a burglar, in that case. Dean's sleepy mind seemed unable to make sense of anything, so he decided to just find where it was coming from and figure it out for himself.

He edged his way along the dark wall until he located the door behind which the sound appeared to be coming from (he was so out of it he forgot which rooms were which). Trying to make as little noise as possible, he gently grasped the door handle and pulled it open, appreciative that it didn't creak like most doors in this house. He stepped onto the plush carpet... this was Castiel's room. Why would the noise be coming from...?

Dean stood frozen in the doorway. Castiel was in his bed, flipping over from side to side and letting out short sobs and whimpers. His body was entirely covered and wrapped in his blankets, and his face was buried into his pillow. What...? Why...?

"Cas," Dean breathed, rushing over to the bedside. "Hey. Cas. What's wrong? Cas, it's me, Dean. Cas. Come on, talk to me. _Cas."_

But Castiel didn't even seem to acknowledge Dean's presence, and continued squirming and weeping. Dean stood there, mind racing, unsure of what to do, until Castiel murmured, "No... you're lying... don't say... me... stop it, please..."

It was then that Dean realized that Castiel was still asleep, having a nightmare.

"Hey, Cas, baby, it's alright, just wake up," Dean soothed, gently placing his hand on Castiel's sweaty forehead.

But the moment Dean touched him, Castiel swatted his hand away, and he whined with fear in his voice, "No, no, stay away from me, don't..."

"Cas, calm down, it's me!" Dean said slightly louder. But still he didn't wake up, just rolled over again and continued making pitiful noises and shaking. Dean's heart felt lodged in his throat; he had no idea what to do, and he hated to see Castiel in such a state. He'd best try to wake Cas up again, he decided; he couldn't stand to let him suffer in this nightmare any longer.

"Cas, come on!" Dean begged, and grabbed and pulled on his arm. But instead of waking up, Castiel became violent and started punching and kicking at random and howling indistinguishable words and curses. One punch landed on the right side of Dean's face, but he hardly even noticed the pain. What the hell was making Castiel act like this? All he wanted to do was hug him and assure him that everything was alright, but even he could see that that was impossible. With a heavy heart, he retreated back to the door, watching as Castiel gradually settled back into silent sobs and murmurs. Dean bit his lip, and after a moment of watching helplessly, exited and closed the door behind him.

He got back into bed, but sleep didn't come to him. He felt awake- more awake than he usually felt, actually, and he stared at the ceiling and wondered what was happening in Castiel's head to make him so vulnerable. After about ten minutes (maybe five, maybe twenty, who knows) he got up and stood next to Castiel's bedroom, putting his ear to the door, and found that the noises had stopped. That was a relief, at the very least.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dean heard a distant beeping and scuffling, and knew that Castiel and his mother were waking up. He checked his phone; it was 6:40. Never had he been so relieved to see it was time to get up on a Monday morning. He figured he'd wait until someone came and woke him up. No point in getting out of bed before he needed to.

Sure enough, Dean heard his door open a few minutes later. Castiel's soft footsteps came towards Dean, stopping a few feet in front of his face. He heard him kneel down on the floor, and could practically feel Castiel's gaze on him. Dean waited for him to prod him or say something, but he was silent. Was he... watching him sleep? The thought nearly brought a smile to Dean's lips, but he stifled it, not wanting to give away that he was awake. It was a good ten seconds or so before Castiel lightly touched his face and softly called out, "Dean, it's morning."

Opening his eyes only a crack, Dean moved forward and captured Castiel's lips in a quick kiss before fully waking up. Castiel's face was somewhat dazed but relaxed, and his night's terrors were clearly long past over. He was especially dazzling in the mornings somehow; his short dark hair went in all directions, his eyes were slightly unfocused but fresh and sparkling, his voice was alluringly raspy, and somehow he smelled even more like Cas. "Morning, beautiful."

Castiel made a _tch _sound and looked away for a moment with a soft smile and a near-imperceptible shake of his head. "Are you going to say that every time I wake you up?"

"Maayyyybe," Dean said, stretching his arms up. "I say it 'cause it's true, you know."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, Dean."

"I mean it!"

"Alright, alright." Dean was about to further argue his point, but Castiel had already gotten up and was heading for the door. "Just hurry up and get dressed." He closed the door firmly behind him. Dean sat up with a groan and began his usual morning routine, relieved that the night was over and Castiel was his typical self again.

Today, breakfast was French toast and a ham-and-cheese omelet. Castiel and his mother could both cook very well; practically every meal they had was homemade, and it was always new and delicious. Dean wasn't sure if they always ate like this or if they were being especially accommodating because they had a guest, but either way he was grateful and was always sure to thank Mrs. Novak for each meal.

It was a fairly normal, uneventful day. Dean and Castiel walked to school as always, enjoying the new warm feel of spring. The cold of winter had finally subsided, and all the trees were at last regaining their whole green leaves. The world seemed to be waking up after a long sleep. It was so nice, actually, that they decided to have lunch outside near the baseball field. It was unexpectedly refreshing to go somewhere new, and they decided they should have lunch outside more often. Dean was unsure if it was his imagination or not, but he thought there was considerably less attention being paid to them at school. Perhaps Dylan had told everyone that they should probably stop messing with them. Or maybe people had finally stopped caring. Teenagers were often that way; completely obsessed in something one day, then completely moved onto something new the next. But as long as nobody was trying to bother them, that was all that mattered.

After fifth period finally let out, Dean and Castiel met up at the school gate as they always did and walked home. Though he didn't voice it, Dean was becoming a bit concerned that he was overstaying his welcome. It had been, what, four days now? Five? He hadn't even talked to his family, except on Saturday when Sam drove over to drop off a few things. Apparently Sam was still trying to convince their dad to let up on the situation, and was making progress. Dean hoped that was true. As awesome as it was to be with Cas 24/7, he knew he'd have to go back fairly soon. He couldn't run away forever, and his presence meant another mouth for Castiel's mother to feed. Living off a minimum wage job at a grocery store and child support from an absent father couldn't be easy. But of course he didn't dare bring this up; he could already imagine Mrs. Novak's, "Oh no, Dean, don't be silly, it's just a pleasure to have you here, and you can stay as long as you need to." She really was a kind woman, Dean thought. Maybe if his mother was still alive, she would have been like that, too.

As soon as they got back and had a quick snack, Dean pulled out his laptop (which Sam had brought him) and started on his homework. He had to finish a rhetorical analysis essay of _The Grapes of Wrath_. It was probably one of the most boring books he had ever read, but, well, that's why Sparknotes exists. He managed to finish it in about an hour and a half, taking just enough of his essay from the internet so as to not be too obvious about it. Though really, half of it didn't even make sense to him. It sounded smart, so it was probably good enough. Something about modernism and Steinbeck's use of symbolism and personification. Whatever works.

He stretched out and smiled once he was done, feeling quite proud of himself. Usually he didn't finish an essay until 1 or 2 in the morning. And today he was finished at 5:50 p.m. He'd best go and ask Cas what they were going to do for dinner; Mrs. Novak was working until 9 today and obviously couldn't fix anything for them.

Dean stood up and peeked in the living room and kitchen, but Castiel wasn't there. Probably in his room, then... He knocked on Castiel's door and waited a moment. "Cas, you in there?" He opened the door a crack, and heard the shower running in the bathroom adjoined to his room. "Hey, Cas," he called out, "What do you want to do for dinner?"

Something that sounded like a muffled "Gimme a minute" answered him, so Dean shrugged and turned away, deciding to go through the kitchen on his own. He scavenged through the cupboards and fridge, wondering if he should just heat up one of their TV dinners or something. But then his eyes landed on some hamburger buns... he checked the fridge, and, sure enough, there were some patties. With a sudden burst of inspiration, he put them on the counter, as well as some tomatoes, ketchup, cheese, and whatever other ingredients he might need. But then how was he going to cook them? They had to have a grill somewhere...

As he was grabbing some lettuce out of the fridge, he heard Castiel enter the kitchen behind him. "What was it you wanted, Dean?"

Dean turned around to face him. "Oh, I was just wondering if you had a..." The lettuce dropped out of his hand and his words trailed off into nothingness.

Castiel was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His sleek hair was wet from the shower and dripped down water onto his shoulders and down his chest... holy _fuck _he had a nice body. His shoulders and arms all had firm muscles beneath the skin and his stomach was smooth and flat and damn he had some nice abs too... and from his belly button there was a faint trail of hair leading downward...

Dean snapped his eyes up, trying to stifle the fierce heat behind his cheeks. "I was, uh, wondering if you guys had, a, um, grill. To, ah, cook on, you know? I was thinking of t-trying to cook some burgers, since your mom's off at work and all, and I know you really liked those burgers we had that one time at that diner, so..." Dean had to fight with himself to stop glancing down. _Gain control of yourself, Dean, it's just Cas... fresh out of the shower... shirtless... looking attractive as fuck..._

Castiel tilted his head slightly but only replied, "Yes, we have one out back. That's very kind of you, Dean."

"Right, thanks, I'll just... go out back and find it then..." He tore his gaze away and started to head towards the yard- then walked head-first straight into the sliding glass door. "Ow, fuck," he groaned, kneeling down and touching his throbbing forehead. No doubt there'd be a big red bump there within minutes.

Castiel was there in a second. "Dean, are you alright? Does it hurt?" He took Dean's wrists and lowered them down so he could take a look. Their faces and bodies were just inches apart as Castiel surveyed the damage. Suddenly the pain seemed to vanish as Dean stared at Castiel's exposed neck right in front of him. There was a slight dip at his collarbone, where a few drops of water slid down and settled... _No, Dean, come on, control yourself here, calm down..._

"Well," Castiel interrupted his train of thought. "Doesn't look too bad. We had best put some ice on it though; I'll go grab the ice pack from the freezer. Be right back."

"No, it's alright Cas, I'm..." But he was already at the freezer, searching through it. Dean watched dazedly as he pulled the blue ice pack from the freezer and rushed back to him, placing it on Dean's bruised forehead. He had to admit, it felt nice, and it seemed to bring him back to his senses.

"Is that better?" Castiel questioned.

"Yeah, thanks, but um... why aren't you wearing anything?"

"Well obviously, I just got out of the shower. And I am wearing boxers under this, you realize."

"But why didn't you, like, change into your pajamas or something?"

Castiel squinted his eyes confusedly. "If I changed into them right after I got out, they would get wet, so it only seemed logical to wait until my hair was dry. Why, does this bother you?"

"No, no, nothing like that, I was just... not really expecting... you're absolutely gorgeous, Cas, you know that?"

A light blush settled over Castiel's cheeks, and he let out a sigh. "Yeah, right." But before Dean could say anything else, he added, "So, you gonna make those burgers now or what?"

Oh, right. Making burgers. That's what he was doing. "Yeah, let me just go turn on the grill now..." He was sure to actually open the glass door this time before stepping out and finding the grill. It was easy to find, next to the small shed in the yard. Dean examined it for a moment before turning it on, then headed back inside to grab the patties, a spatula, and a plate. Castiel was gone, probably to go put on some clothes. Which was probably for the best. If Castiel kept standing around shirtless, Dean would've definitely ended up getting distracted and burning himself or dropping something or somehow causing further injury to himself.

He felt quite at peace, actually, as he put three burgers on the grill and waited for them to cook. The air smelled very crisp and clean, of freshly-cut grass and dirt and the sizzling burgers. It was just starting to reach dusk, and a slight reddish glow had begun to climb its way over the treetops. After flipping the burgers once, he glanced over his shoulder to see that Castiel was outside, too, dressed in a T-shirt and some navy blue pajama pants. He was leaning against the glass door, smiling as he watched Dean cook. It filled Dean with warmth, somehow, to see that Castiel seemed to be enjoying the evening as much as he was.

When the burgers finally looked and smelled done about nine or ten minutes later, Dean placed three buns on the plate and lifted the patties onto them with a spatula.

"Hey, Cas," he called over his shoulder, "What do you want on your burger?"

Castiel pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to Dean. "Whatever you recommend." He watched closely as Dean put cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, ketchup, and a bit of mayonnaise on each patty before placing the top bun on each. "Can we eat now?" he asked easterly, inspecting the fresh cheeseburgers.

"Sure. But first could you turn on those lights?" He gestured to the two outdoor lamps by the back door. "It's starting to get kinda dark."

Castiel nodded and walked back into the house. A few seconds later, the lamps turned on, illuminating a good portion of their yard. Dean hadn't realized how dark it had gotten; the sun was only and orange sliver of light over the treetops, and the rest of the sky was a dark blue.

By the time Castiel emerged from the house, Dean was sitting cross-legged in the grass with the plate of burgers in front of him.

"Did you happen to check what time it is?" Dean asked as Castiel sat down across from him.

"Almost seven," he replied, intently fixed on the plate between them. Dean chuckled and Castiel sent him a curious look. "What?"

"Well, Mondays at seven is when we usually meet."

"Yes, I suppose so. For the stargazers club, you mean."

"Yeah," Dean smiled. In all honesty, they weren't really club meetings anymore so much as excuses to see each other in private throughout the week. But that was just as well. "Go ahead," he urged, taking notice of Castiel's longing looks at their dinner. "Try one."

Castiel picked up the largest burger and gazed at it with wonder for a few seconds. He tried a small bite, then closed his eyes and smiled.

"How is it?" Dean asked as he picked up a burger for himself.

"Delicious," Castiel answered dreamily. Dean tried a bite of his own; it really was delicious. It had been a while since he had cooked, so he was relieved that he hadn't messed it up somehow. The meat was perfectly cooked, and all the ingredients blended together perfectly. Clearly Castiel was enjoying it, judging by his blissful expression and the way he seemed to savor each bite.

For a few minutes they enjoyed their meal in a peaceful silence, only broken occasionally by Castiel's compliments on how good it was and how he didn't know Dean could cook so well. The compliments made Dean feel warm and happy, and he decided he should cook more often.

When Castiel had finished, he thanked Dean again and began to stand up, but Dean grabbed his wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"In...side...?"

"Come onn," Dean asserted, lightly tugging on his sleeve. "Just sit with me for awhile. You don't just walk away during club meeting time." He lay down on the grass and attempted to pull Castiel down with him.

Castiel hesitated for a second, but followed Dean and lay down beside him, leaving only an inch or so between their bodies. Dean hugged Castiel's arm and rested his head on his shoulder, then snuggled into the warmth of Castiel's shirt and smiled. It was too nice of an evening to not take advantage of. "This is niice," he murmured into Castiel's chest, enjoying the feeling of its slow rise and fall.

"Yeah," Castiel agreed. "It is." He placed his hand in Dean's hair, running his fingers along his scalp, and leaving small tingling sensations wherever he touched. Dean tilted his head so that his chin rested on Castiel's chest and he gazed at him silently. It was almost unfair how stunning he looked. And he had that calm, blissful, wonderful expression he always seemed to acquire under the stars. Then he noticed that Castiel had a bit of ketchup on the corner of his lips. Instead of telling him, though, he leaned forward and licked it off, earning a bewildered look. Dean laughed. "Ketchup," he explained. Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes, but then pulled Dean's face toward his and kissed him gently.

"Cas?" Dean said after they had pulled apart.

"Yes?"

"I think I love you." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he froze upon realizing what he had just said. What was he thinking? They had only been dating for, what, two months? Maybe? That was way too soon, wasn't it? And what if Cas didn't feel _that _strongly toward him? He frantically searched Castiel's eyes for any signs of rejection or repulsion. But all he found was genuine confusion.

"Why?"

"...What do you mean, why?"

"As in, why would you care for me to that extent?"

Dean was incredulous. Did Cas really have no idea how breathtaking he was? "You... you really don't know? Cas, you're the most amazing person I've ever met. You're honest, you're straightforward, you've got the greatest heart of anyone I know, you're smart, you're talented, and on top of all that, you're absolutely fucking gorgeous. Can you really blame me?"

"I'm... I'm hardly any of those. I'm just the strange, unnoteworthy kid in the back of the classroom. You overestimate me. I'm nobody, Dean, and I still don't understand how on earth I managed to catch your attention."

"You've been listening way too much to what people say, you know. They're all so wrong about you, Cas. I know you. I know who you really are. I don't care what people think about you, or what crazy things they come up about you. The people who call you weird or creepy or psychopathic or whatever, they don't know you. And if they did, they would know that you are worth the entire student body put together, if not more. So don't you go telling me that you're nobody."

Castiel looked away and chewed on his bottom lip. "You don't know everything, Dean," he managed to say at last. "I... I think I need to tell you something."

Dean furrowed his brows. "What is it?"

"Those rumors about me... they're not completely untrue."


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was dumbfounded. "What do you mean they're 'not untrue'?"

Castiel shifted so that he was sitting upright with his shoulders slightly hunched, looking anxious and uncomfortable. He stared unfocused at the ground. Dean was about to open his mouth to break the growing silence when he finally spoke.

"As the rumors say, I..." Castiel swallowed, causing his adam's apple to bob slightly. "I was expelled. From my prior school."

He waited for him to go on, but clearly that wasn't happening. "And why the hell would any school kick you out? You're, like, the perfect student, right?"

"In an academic sense, yes, I suppose so. But, I... I did something. And they had no choice but to expel me. It's..." He trailed off and looked Dean in the eye. "Dean, are you sure you really want to hear this?"

_Hell yeah, I want to hear this, are you kidding me? _But he could see that Castiel was hesitant and almost fearful about the subject. "If you really don't want to talk about whatever it is, I won't push it, but if it's as big a deal as you're making it out to be, then I want to know. It's not like anything you say is going to scare me off or anything."

Castiel studied him, and Dean did his best to look nonchalant. At last Castiel took a deep breath and began. "Last... last year, I went to a high school in Salina. Where I'd lived since I was born. Things weren't much different than they are now. I wasn't exactly in the popular crowd, and I just had a couple of friends in my art class. That was about it. Except, I... well, I met this guy. He was in eleventh grade, a year older than me, and pretty soon, we started, um, dating." He sent Dean a cautious glance, as if expecting him to be upset, but Dean just nodded for him to go on.

"I mean, he just sort of asked me out one day out of the blue, and I... I had known about my sexual orientation for a while, and it just felt like such a relief to think that I could have a chance at a relationship. And he seemed nice enough, he had always been kind to me and listened to me, so I accepted. And it was fine, for awhile. For a few weeks, I was the happiest I had ever been. But then, he started to get... possessive would be a good term. He forbid me to talk to anybody else, and became upset if he saw me conversing with anybody else, male or female. One time, he decided to pop into my art classroom to say hi, and he found my friends and I talking and laughing, and one of them had his arm around my shoulder, at the time. That... that did not end well." Castiel smirked awkwardly and looked down at his hands.

A realization hit Dean and his eyes widened. "You don't mean he..."

"That... was the first time he struck me, yes. But he did it after school and there was nobody around to see it and I probably deserved it a bit because I had already promised him that I would stop talking to everyone else, but... things took a bad turn from there on. I, of course, stopped talking to my friends and began to distance myself from everything. My friends and family were all very confused and my mother even tried to get me a counselor. But it didn't really help, I was lost and I didn't want to involve anyone else. So I became fully dependent on... on him. He assured me that everything was alright, that he loved me, that he would do anything for me, that he was helping me, that I didn't need anyone else in my life but him. Sometimes he yelled at me or hit me, but he... he was doing it out of love, he said. And he usually had a good reason. Sometimes I forgot things, or he caught me looking at someone else and wrongly interpreted it, or I went somewhere and didn't let him know, or sometimes he just wanted to 'toughen me up'. It was never that bad, though. There's only one time that he really got out of control. When I... suggested breaking up." Castiel's hands had begun to shake slightly, so Dean covered them with his own comfortingly, and gave them a small squeeze. Castiel swallowed before continuing.

"I was starting to see by that point that something was wrong. And I was becoming so confused by everything, and I suggested some time apart to clear my head and sort things out. He didn't see it that way, though. He figured I was trying to leave him for someone else. And it... got pretty bad. He made it clear that I was lucky to have someone willing to be in a relationship with me, that I was disgusting and nobody else could possibly care for me like he did, that I was being ungrateful after everything he's done for me. By the end of it, I was in a pretty bad state, both physically and mentally, and... he threatened to rape me if I told anyone or tried to break up with him again."

Dean tried to control the boiling rage and hatred inside him. He felt like hunting this guy down and killing him, but he kept himself calm. Some of his emotions must have shown on his face though, because Castiel quickly added, "But don't worry, he never did. It never really went beyond hitting and yelling. I kept my mouth shut. And it continued like that for a month or two. Until the second to last day of school. During break, I found him kissing some girl up against a wall. Needless to say, I was in... utter disbelief. When they caught sight of me, he and the girl started to laugh at me. He told me that of course he had a few girls on the side, I never gave him what he wanted, and I was lucky that he wanted to be with me at all, that I was disgusting and it was all just a big game to him. Something in me snapped. All I remember is that by the end of it he was on the ground with several broken bones, the girl's face was bloody, and at least six teachers were working to restrain me. I might have hurt some of them, too, I can't really recall.

"I was expelled from the school, and when I finally told my mother the truth of it all, we moved here, away from everything and to a place where she hopes I can get a fresh start. I spent the first half of summer in therapy sessions, until I found out that my mother was paying for them from her private funds. She had been saving up the money all her life to try to open a pastry store, one day. And I couldn't let her waste the money. So I started going to this school in August, and... well... you know the rest."

Dean had absolutely no idea what to say. He had often wondered why Castiel had moved here, but he never really asked, and had figured it wasn't a big deal. But this... what could he possibly even say? As the seconds stretched on, Castiel's expression changed from somewhat uncomfortable to frantic.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"What? What do you have to be sorry about?"

"I... shouldn't have told you that. I'm sorry. You didn't need to know all of that. You don't need a guy with so much baggage. It's not your problem, and I'm taking advantage of your kindness by dumping my problems on you. I mean, I'm already weird enough to start with, and it's a miracle that you're putting up with me as it is." Castiel chuckled in a way that made Dean's heart sink. "Just... forget about it. It's not a big deal."

Dean's ability to talk seemed to come back all at once. "Don't tell me you actually believe a word that asshole said to you."

Castiel knit his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"You actually think that I'm just putting up with you? And did I hear you actually defending him for all those times he abused you?"

"Dean, I know it's hard to put up with me. And I'm really grateful that you are, really. But let's face it, I'm not an especially great person, or a great boyfriend. Nobody really wants to get involved with me. Most people are either scared of me or creeped out by me. That's just how it is. I've accepted that and I'm living my life accordingly. Soon enough you'll probably get over me, and... well, I guess it'll be just me again. So I'm just trying to make the best of our time together while it lasts. And now I fear I might have... shortened it. So, I'm sorry, and I hope you can just forget about this conversation."

"Is... is that what you really think? That you're just some... passing phase I'm going through?"

Castiel was silent. On a sudden impulse, Dean crashed their lips together, putting every ounce of passion he could find into the kiss, and not stopping until he was completely out of breath and thought he might suffocate if he held on any longer. Castiel's eyes were half-lidded and more relaxed when he pulled away, but he was completely baffled-looking.

"Now, Cas, you listen to me. You're wrong. Whoever that guy was, he was a complete asshole, and he abused you. You didn't deserve it, you did nothing wrong. And you deserve so, so much better. Hell, sometimes I find myself wondering if you're too out of my league. And the only reason people don't get involved with you is because they don't know you. They don't bother to see how great you are. Because you're perfect to me, Cas. You're like nobody else I've ever met. And I have no intention of ever leaving you. I mean, for fuck's sake, I just told you that I _love_ you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"You..." Castiel licked his lips and gazed hopefully at Dean with those fucking amazing blue eyes of his. "You actually mean it, then?"

"Damn straight I do."

"... Say it again."

Dean smiled and brought his hand to Castiel's face, stroking little circles on his cheeks with his thumb. "I love you, Cas."

Castiel put a hand on top of Dean's and leaned into his touch. "Again."

"I love you. So, so much." They both leaned in and gently grazed their lips together.

"Again," Castiel breathed, his warm breath ghosting against Dean's skin. Instead of a verbal reply, Dean brought their lips together again, more firmly this time, and leaned into Castiel so that they fell back on the grass. Castiel responded enthusiastically, tangling his fingers in Dean's sandy hair and pushing him down on top of him. While their tongues met and danced together, Dean began to stroke his fingers up and down Castiel's bare arms. They were so firm and muscular and, oh God, he was really starting to get turned on here.

"Dammit," Dean muttered between kisses, "I love you, Castiel, I love you..." He pulled back and gazed into Castiel's cloudy eyes, then started to press open-mouthed kisses to Castiel's neck, earning a soft gasp that sent a shiver through Dean's body. His fingers moved from Castiel's arms up to his shoulders, then traced lines down his clothed chest until he reached the bottom of the thin cotton T-shirt. With a soft bite on his collarbone, he moved his hands under Castiel's shirt and onto the bare skin of his torso underneath. It was an entirely new sensation, having his hands directly on Castiel's body, but he found he liked it very much and could very easily get used to it. "Is this alright, Cas?" he murmured, glancing up. "I won't go too far, promise."

Castiel nodded in reply, apparently unable to form coherent words. Having gotten approval, Dean grabbed the bottom of Castiel's shirt and pulled it up and over his head, then tossed it aside and took a moment to enjoy the view. Castiel's dark hair was completely tousled and messed up, his blue eyes were somewhat clouded over but still sparkling brightly and gazing directly into Dean, his lips were parted, and his bare chest rose and fell with each breath. "You're so beautiful, Cas," he said, not really caring about how corny he probably sounded. He brought his hands back to Cas's torso and began exploring every inch of exposed skin he could find, and pressing small kisses everywhere. "So, so beautiful..."

"That's... not fair..." Castiel pointed out, tugging lightly at Dean's shirt. "You have to... too..."

Dean smirked and sat up on his knees, then grabbed the back of his shirt and drew it up and over his head. Cas's eyes opened just slightly wider, and his tongue ran over his upper lip as he took in Dean's form. Dean felt strangely exposed; many people had seen his bare chest, like at swimming parties and stuff, but nobody had ever looked at him, like... _that._ Something in Castiel's gaze was almost... predatory. But somehow, Dean found that he really didn't mind.

Castiel took him by the shoulders and pressed their mouths together hungrily, moving their lips together and nibbling and pulling on Dean's lips with his teeth and sucking on his tongue, and since when did kissing ever feel this good? Meanwhile Castiel's warm hands moved up and down Dean's chest, making every place he touched feel on fire. And when Castiel's knee moved up and nudged Dean between his legs, he thought he was going to lose it. An ungodly moan escaped his lips, and within a second he found himself spun him around so that now he was lying on the floor, gazing up helplessly at Castiel's figure looming above him. His hands were pinned above his head, and Castiel smirked sinfully down at him, biting his lip, and _oh my god was that a fucking growl?_

He didn't have much time to contemplate on that, though, because now Castiel was kissing his jaw and actually licking a line up his stubble and biting at the base of his neck and then, without warning, he grinded his hips down onto Dean's. Dean involuntarily let out a moan of pleasure, and he distantly wondered exactly when he had become so licentious and needy. His hands were restrained, so Dean did what he could do: he lifted his head and kissed Castiel as hard as he could, licking his way into his mouth, and moved his hips in time with Castiel's, doing all he could to increase the friction that he desired, needed with every fiber of his being. Soon they were both panting into each other's mouths, warm breaths mixing in the air between them, clumsily pushing their bodies together as much as they possibly could.

This was as far as they could go, Dean was able to recognize that. As much as he wanted to just screw logic and have Cas right then and right there, he knew that they were already stretching their boundaries. Especially with the new knowledge of everything Castiel had told him. Dean wanted to show him just how much he cared for him and loved him: loved those stunning eyes, the just slightly unusual way he talked, his honesty and straightforwardness, and just every little part of Castiel. He wanted to show him what love truly meant, that relationships were about so much more than games and control and desire. He wanted to completely erase any and all thoughts and memories of that abusive son of a bitch that still lingered in Castiel's lovely little mind.

And so while everything in Dean was aching for more, he pressed a gentle kiss to Castiel's forehead and gently rolled them over so that they were both lying down and facing each other. He placed his hand on Castiel's cheek and rested their foreheads together and took deep breaths to relax himself.

"Dean, what are you..."

Dean cut off his words with a gentle kiss. "It's alright Cas. I just... think we should kinda take it slow, ya know?"

Castiel looked at him in confusion. "Why? Do you... not want to?"

Dean snorted. "You fucking kidding me? Cas, I want to do things to you that are probably unspeakable."

"So then why did you stop?"

"Because, there's more to our relationship than that. Just look at us. We're a couple of high school kids who've been dating for a few months, and half the time we have no idea what the hell we're doing. You and I, we have our whole lives ahead of us. We have all the time in the world to do whatever we want. Why rush it?"

Castiel pouted slightly, but relaxed and snuggled into Dean's chest nonetheless. "If you say so."

"I know so." He wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulders and allowed them to lay there in peaceful silence for a minute or two. "You know, though," he soon found himself saying, "You really are the most gorgeous man I've ever met."

Castiel scoffed. "You're always saying that."

"What, you don't believe me?"

"No. And I probably never will."

"It's true, though. It's a miracle I'm even able to hold myself back around you, really."

Castiel made another small sound of disbelief, but Dean could feel him smile against his skin. It was a shame, really, that Castiel couldn't see it. Dean wanted to show him just how beautiful and amazing he was. How absolutely helpless he was whenever he looked into those starry eyes of his. How his smiles and laughs seemed to light up the whole world and make everything so colorful and alive. How lost Dean was ever since that fateful night at baseball practice and chance meeting in the clearing.

But all Dean could manage to say was, "I love you, Castiel."

Castiel lifted his head, and Dean could tell by his expression that he understood. Because he smiled one of his breathtaking, truly sincere smiles and replied steadily, "I love you too, Dean."


	13. Epilogue

So, the day had finally come.

Dean had been watching some mindless television on the couch with Cas when the call came. He fumbled around in his jacket pocket, earning a confused glance from Castiel, and pulled out his phone. It was Sam.

After uttering a quick "Hang on a sec," to Castiel, he stood up and walked over to his bedroom, then slid his finger across the phone's screen and held it to his ear. "Sammy, what's up?"

Sam's voice was enthusiastic and just a bit too high-pitched when he announced, "Dad said okay!"

Hope flared in Dean's chest, though he pushed it down just in case he was making untrue assumptions. "You mean he..."

"Yup! I've finally convinced him. He's still not happy about it, but he says he's gonna put up with you guys' relationship."

Dean was overcome with relief, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "How'd you manage to pull that one off?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"Well, I've been pestering him every day for the past two weeks since you left. I think he figured you'd only be gone for a couple days, then get over it and come crawling back. But I guess this whole thing means more to you than he thought it would. And, I mean, he has to let you come back at some point, right? So basically he's decided that you can do whatever with your personal life as long as you don't drag him into it somehow. Soo, yeah, we're gonna come by and pick you up in a few hours!"

Relieved and glad as he was, Dean felt a twinge of sadness that he was leaving. These had been two of the best weeks of his life, but, well, it couldn't last forever, he supposed. The Novaks had to get back to their normal life, and like Sam said, Dean had to go back to his home eventually. "Alright," he conceded after a few seconds, "I'll start getting my stuff ready."

"Cool, I'll see you in a bit."

"Wait, Sammy-" Dean bit his lip and smiled. "Thanks. I... I don't know what I'd do without you. You're a lifesaver."

"Anytime, Dean. It'll be nice to have you back."

"Yeah... I'll see you in a couple hours, alright?"

"See you." The call ended with a small beep, and Dean braced himself to go share the news.

Castiel was crestfallen, to say the least. His words were encouraging and understanding, but his disappointed pout said otherwise. Not that Dean could really blame him.

"Don't worry, Cas, we'll still see each other all the time at school and at club meetings, right? And we'll go out on the weekends. We'll do something different or go somewhere new every week, how's that sound?"

"I'm holding you to that, you know." Dean chuckled and ruffled through Castiel's hair a bit, amused at how it stuck up everywhere.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

The kitchen door to their right opened, and Mrs. Novak's muffled voice became audible as she stepped into the room, talking into a phone. "Yes, yes, I'm sure... Great, I'll tell him right now." She clicked a button and put the phone down, then directed her attention to Castiel and Dean, with a large smile plastered on her face. "Good news, boys!"

"What is it?" Castiel questioned.

"Welll, you know how spring break is a week away? I just got a phone call from your father, Castiel, and he says he wants to see you." A slight shadow flickered behind her eyes at the words 'your father,' but her voice was energetic as ever. "He bought tickets for you to fly to Vatican City and stay with him for a week. Would you like to do that?"

Castiel seemed to freeze solid and his eyes widened. "I... I can see him?"

Mrs. Novak's smile softened at the look on her son's face. "Yes. He misses you dearly, Castiel. I was a bit surprised myself, but... well, he's already bought the tickets and made all the arrangements necessary. He says he wants to apologize for not making an effort to see you earlier. So, the offer stands if you wish to take it."

Castiel nodded, apparently at a loss for words. "Will you be coming, too?"

"No," she admitted after a moment. "I don't... it would probably be for the best if I didn't. But," she added, eyes brightening, "I haven't gotten to the best part yet. He actually bought _two_ tickets!" She clapped her hands together and shifted her gaze excitedly between Dean and Castiel for a minute before the realization sunk in.

Dean swallowed. "You don't mean..."

"That is exactly what I mean," she announced. "I told Castiel's father about you, Dean, and he says he wants to meet you. Plus he wants Castiel to have some company while he's off at work during the day. So as long as you and your family are alright with it, you're more than welcome to go with Castiel and spend a week in Vatican City together. And don't worry about the money; it'll all be covered. Isn't this exciting?!"

Dean was shocked. As the idea slowly sank into his mind, a warm feeling spread throughout him and he smiled widely. All disappointment about leaving the Novaks' home seemed to be flushed away entirely in light of this new development. Looking over, he saw that Cas's eyes were lit up in elation. They were going to spend an entire week together. Just the two of them. In Europe. With Castiel's father.

"Yeah," Dean managed to get out. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you, so much. For everything. These past few weeks... well, it's been like a second home. I kinda wish I didn't have to go back now, but..."

Jeanne Novak nodded understandingly. "I take it you're leaving today, then?"

"Yeah." Dean's throat was strangely constricted, but he pushed out the words nonetheless. "They're coming to pick me up in a few hours. I just really can't express how grateful I am. For everything you've done."

"Oh, no need to be so formal about it. You're part of the family now, Dean, like it or not. And you'll always be welcome here." She moved over and wrapped her arms around Dean in an unexpected yet tight and comforting embrace. The feel of it seemed to activate some warm, intangible memory in the recesses of Dean's mind, amorphous and distant but overwhelmingly nostalgic and loving- and he found himself returning the hug with a sudden surge of affection and fondness.

Two hours later there was a firm knock on the door. Dean was ready for it: his suitcase was filled with the clothes he brought, the things Sam brought over, and, well, if he ended up taking a shirt or two from Castiel's closet neither of them said anything about it. Somehow the thought of leaving didn't sting as much as it had when he first got Sam's call; he would be back, he was sure, and now he had spring break to look forward to. And he doubted that his father would object. It seemed he was willing to agree to just about anything right now, and it meant he wouldn't have to spend money on Dean or do anything special over the break.

The strangest thing was that on the car ride home, Dean's father didn't yell or complain once. And the fatherly clap on the shoulder and smile when he saw Dean open the door was as good an apology as Dean could have ever hoped for.

The next week passed by in a flurry of excitement and anticipation, and Lawrence Hills seemed to buzz with the prospect of being free after a long trimester. Even the teachers had seemed to brighten up by the end of the week, resulting in a lighter homework load and less onerous class periods. Spring break seemed to be the only thing in everyone's minds, and the main topic of conversation everywhere. Including with Dean and Cas.

If Dean was excited for their upcoming trip, Cas was even more so. He had been hurriedly studying Italian at any spare second of time he had during class or lunch or at home, immersed in _Italian 101_ and _Basics of Italian: Helpful Words and Phrases._ Dean was always sure to distract him at any given chance, amused at Castiel's intense focus and dedication. It probably wouldn't really make any difference whether Cas knew any Italian or not; whenever they went into the city, it would be with Cas's dad, who was fluent. However, he helped Cas whenever he was asked and spent Thursday evening quizzing him on how to say different phrases. At one point, he even tried learning some of them himself, if anything so that Cas could have someone to practice with, but it was clear Dean lacked the same aptitude for languages that Cas apparently had. So typically he would just watch, bemused, as Castiel flipped back and forth through the pages, trying out the unfamiliar words on his tongue every once in a while.

At long last, Saturday evening came. The plane was scheduled to take off at 8:30 p.m., so that they could sleep on the plane and reach their destination ten hours later, which would be 1:00 p.m. in Vatican City. Mrs. Novak picked Dean up at 7, by which time Dean had long since finished packing and getting ready and had been aimlessly wandering around the house for a good half-hour, checking to make sure he had everything. After a hug from Sam and a quick farewell from his father, Dean left the house, warmly greeted Mrs. Novak, threw his luggage in the trunk of the old minivan, and climbed in the backseat next to Castiel, whose face was lit up as much as Dean's. Their fingers touched and intertwined almost shyly as they drove to the airport, chattering and laughing and enjoying the feel of freedom.

They checked into the airport and got through security and into their terminal easily. But then as they were sitting and relaxing at their gate, Dean saw a plane fly in next to the gate and a female voice came over the speaker and announced that their plane had arrived and boarding would begin shortly after the current passengers had been unloaded. And he realized with a start that he had overlooked a very important detail of the trip. He had been so excited for the past week that he had forgotten... they were getting on a plane. And flying. Ten hours. Halfway across the world. Thousands of feet up in the air. _Shit._

Castiel must have noticed something, because he looked up from his book with a slight look of concern etched into his face. "Dean, are you alright?"

Dean's voice was small and shaky when he replied, "I... I just remembered, I kinda... don't really like planes."

"Dean, do you have a fear of heights?" Dean nodded and looked away, not wanting to see Cas look disappointed or, worse, mocking.

"That's actually kind of cute," Cas commented, and Dean fixed him with the most intense glare he could muster, but it really came out as more of a pout, and the heat rising behind his cheeks really wasn't helping. Cas chuckled lightly in response and said, "Don't worry, we all have our fears. Nothing to be ashamed of. Let me know if there's anything I can do to make the flight easier for you."

Dean blinked at the unexpected sympathy and understanding, and stammered out a "Yeah, thanks," before deciding to direct his attention to a little game on his phone while he waited for the plane to start boarding. Anything to distract him from the anxiousness sprouting in his chest.

But then, in the way that it always does when you're dreading something, time passed more quickly than Dean had anticipated. The clenching in his throat had just begun to relax when the same female voice from earlier announced that Flight 217 was now boarding, and that passengers should line up according to the number on their ticket. Dean bit his lip and looked down at their boarding passes. They had A47 and A48. At least they'd have a good choice of seats.

He was unsure of how exactly he managed to hand in his pass with a steady hand and make the seemingly giant step from building to airplane, but he did. They chose an empty row near the back so that the bathroom was close by and they could easily find a flight attendant if need be. After a short debate on who should sit where, Cas slid into the seat next to the window, and Dean sat next to him. As soon as they finished stashing their bags under the seats in front of them, Cas reached for his hand, and Dean was grateful for the physical contact. He needed something to ground him through this.

Dean continuously cast anxious glances at the aisle and silently willed anyone who was passing by not to sit next to him. He really didn't want anyone else sitting in their row. And it seemed the flight gods were looking down upon him that day, because the plane ended up being only two-thirds full, and nobody else occupied their row. Dean let that thought comfort him and leaned his head back against the blue leather seat, forcing himself to take steady breaths in the dim light of the plane. The pressure of Castiel's hand was a constant reassurance, and he clung onto it as tightly as he could.

After an excruciatingly long six and a half minutes, the plane began to move. It almost felt like being in a car... a really big and really quickly accelerating car with wings, maybe, but they hadn't lifted off the ground yet, and so far so good-

The wheels left the ground and Dean's heart lurched and began to beat rapidly. He was distantly aware of Castiel whispering encouragement and covering Dean's hand in both of his, and he tried to get his senses to focus on that. He didn't dare look out the window, and was thankful that he wasn't in the window seat, but he closed his eyes for good measure. He fell into an easy rhythm of inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, all the while trying to ignore everything but the comforting presence beside him. And when he finally opened his eyes a minute later, the plane had settled above the clouds and was moving at a constant speed and direction, and he allowed himself to relax a bit.

"See?" Castiel asked. "That wasn't too bad, was it? And now it's just a straight shot for the next ten hours."

That thought wasn't especially comforting, but instead of saying so, he hummed a slight agreement, rested his head on Cas's shoulder, and let his eyes close. And he couldn't help but smile a bit when he felt the press of warm, soft lips to his forehead. It was only 8:45, but the darkness of the sky was nice and Cas's shoulder was nice and the warmth was nice and he let himself doze off into what he considered a well-earned rest.

A few hours later he slowly drifted back into consciousness and pulled himself out of whatever strange string of dreams he was in the middle of. The first thing he became aware of was the warmth of Castiel pressed against him, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that Cas's face was just a few inches away from his, eyes closed and lips parted just slightly. A slight whistle noise accompanied each of his slow inhales. It was surprisingly adorable.

Dean glanced out the window behind Castiel, and couldn't help but be just a bit amazed. The deep black sky was speckled with tiny little stars, fully exposed and clear. No trees, no clouds, no lights, nothing to obscure them or hide them. They twinkled and shone as if their sole purpose of existing was to light up the sky just for him. To allow him to bask in their beauty. And suddenly Dean understood why Castiel used to spend his evenings watching the night sky in a baseball field. Because no matter where you were, what was happening, even if your whole world was crumbling around you and shattering into pieces, the stars would always come out at night. They would always shine down at you, wrapping you in the comforts of the night sky, begging to be admired, daring you to explore each and every one of them.

And that's exactly what Castiel was, too. A shining light. So distant, at first, that he hardly seems worth sparing a glance. But once he grabbed your attention, he had it forever. Because he suddenly seemed so bright, so overwhelmingly bright and glowing and radiant, that he illuminated the entire world, and suddenly the darkness of the night seemed so irrelevant. So what if the world has gone dark? So what if you're in the midst of a giant sea of blackness? Because that light will always be there, shining bright, guiding the way, exposing its beauty to those who find it. Castiel was Dean's light. His star in the night sky.

"Dean?"

Castiel was drifting awake, blue eyes half-open, lips forming a soft smile. He really was beautiful. The way his eyes lit up and twinkled... Dean wondered how he hadn't made the connection before. "I'm fine," Dean whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Castiel's nose. "Let's go back to sleep."

Castiel made a soft noise of contentment, then hugged Dean's arm and buried his face in the crook of his shoulder. Dean responded by resting his head on top of Cas's, and using his free hand to stroke Cas's hair. And right then and there, snuggled together in a plane on their way to a new adventure, everything was balanced and perfect, and anything in the world seemed possible. They were two teenagers in love, and the future held so many possibilities that Dean's brain rattled just thinking of it all.

_My very own star_, Dean thought as he drifted back into sleep. _Only difference is, I don't need a telescope to stargaze. Because my star isn't light-years away. He's right here beside me._

_-end-_


End file.
